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The earth trembled beneath her feet…
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A shriek rose to her mouth. Kellach turned in circles. The earth trembled beneath her feet, as horses galloped everywhere, leaped over barricades, pounded the ground and stirred up fierce clouds of dirt. One thought entered her mind. Her weapons. In the fort. She had left them there.
Coughing and choking, she dashed blindly forward, her feet smashing the ground with enough force to sting them through the thin soles of her boots. She gasped. Her heart beat with the strength of high waves in a ferocious ocean.
She spun around, but shrouds of powdery earth flying through the air were so heavy, they obscured everything in front of her. The haze enveloped her. She stared at the filmy wall. Her throat was parched, her mouth clogged with grit. This was worse than any of the nightmares she'd suffered for years! Her sense of direction went awry. Where was she?
Her woolen shawl fell from her shoulders. She ignored it and shouted into the wind, Lunn! Lunn! Afraid no one had heard her, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shrieked louder, Call out our men. Warn everyone. Hurry!
She turned, bewildered. Not until she thought she saw a silhouette near the fort did she have any sense of her direction. The man waved to her.
She yelled, We're being attacked.
He pointed to something behind her. Kellach spun around and peered into the dimness.
Through the fog of dust and flying shale, a huge black horse cleared obstacles with room to spare and raced across the expansive yard at the forefront of other horses. The man atop the black was as massive and muscled as the horse. Without doubt, he was leader of a raiding party with a force far superior to hers.
Horsemen tore across the fields and over low stone fences. Frantic hooves beat a rhythm upon the land, iron striking rocky soil. Mass confusion forced her in yet another direction. From there, she watched, bewildered, emotionless, frozen, as if she were a far distance from the action.
The surprise of the ambush stripped her of her usual bravery. She stood glued to the spot, unable to move, rooted in a horrid scene from the past. Memories assailed her….
What reviewers are saying about Unlawful
> Ms. Nelson has done it again. What an extraordinary author! One can only hope for many more wonderful stories from her. Sue Hartigan, RIO> Very highly recommended! Cindy Penn, WordWeaving>
>
Unlawful
>
by
Dorice Nelson
>
NBI
NovelBooks, Inc.
>Douglas, Massachusetts
This is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the characters, incidents, and dialogs are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2002 by Dorice Nelson
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and review. For information, address NovelBooks, Inc., P.O. Box 661, Douglas, MA 01516 or email publisher@novelbooksinc.com
NBI
>Published by
NovelBooks, Inc.
P.O. Box 661
Douglas, MA 01516
NovelBooks Inc. publishes books online and through print-on-demand. For more information, check our website:www.novelbooksinc.com or email publisher@novelbooksinc.com
Produced in the United States of America.
Cover illustration by Ariana Overton
Edited by Gail McAbee
ISBN 1-931696-16-0 for electronic version
ISBN 1-931696-83-7 for POD version
Dedication
To my parents, my Aunt Mary and my entire family,
all of whom tried so hard to help me succeed in life.
Acknowledgements
To the International Women's Writing Guild (IWWG)
with its conferences at Skidmore College,
where I started the steps toward this career.
To my editor, Gail McAbee, who makes me laugh
with her quips while pushing me to be better and better.
To all my Sisters of the Lake, who put up with
my foibles and love me anyway.
Prologue
Corca Dhuibhne Peninsula, Gael-May, 834 AD
>In abject horror, Bruic the Badger focused his eyes on the lifeless bodies scattered across the sandy beach. Undulating rivulets of blood mixed with the sea. The ocean's tangy smells wafted on air to combine with the odor of hot smoke pouring from a fortress on the promontory. In contrast to the swirling gray smoke, shards of sunlight glittered and warmed the area with golden beams.
Sea birds raced from nearby islands to encircle the tiny cove and dive at the still forms. Shrieks resounded for miles as the creatures swooped down, squealed and fought over tidbits of raw, plucked tissue.
Bile rose in Bruic's throat and threatened to choke him.
Despite the gruesome sight before him, he feared returning to the sturdy wooden ships berthed in the next bay, wanting desperately to remain in his native land. Turning slightly, he scanned the area, searching for a place to hide from those who had stolen him from these shores seven years ago.
No safe haven presented itself on the barren beach. Only scrawny trees and high rocky ledges kept him from seeing the shapes of the tall vessels. As wind and waves beat the bodies of the dead, a bit of sea-laden breeze blew a lock of dark hair over his face. He pushed it back with unnecessary roughness and fought the urge to retch.
Bruic shook his head in anger, frustrated. I'll never get away from them, he mumbled, just to hear the sound of his own voice.
Since his enslavement, he had witnessed battles often, but the results never resembled the carnage before him. Now, at thirteen, his intention to become a warrior of note vanished in the face of this destruction. He had grown older in the last hour. He sucked in rank air and plunged his sword into the ground. Kneeling on one knee, he bowed his head. An almost forgotten Gaelic prayer flew into his mind and he mouthed the words.
Once done, he pushed on his sword and rose to his feet. Without another glance, he scuffed through the sand toward the granite boulders that separated this cove from the next. At the bottom of the ledges, he paused to look back at the mangled bodies.
>A flash of movement and unexpected color in the high reedy grasses that topped the nearest dune caught his gaze. A red-haired girl teetered to the edge of the sandy ridge. Behind her, a yellow-haired child peeped through the grasses. Bruic suspected they had witnessed the raid from a secret hiding place.
The redhead slowed, looked back at the yellow-haired girl but kept her forward motion. Not watching where she was going, she lost her balance and slid on her bottom to the beach. Her choking hiccups dispersed the feasting birds. They rose in the air, flapping and screeching in protest at the disturbance. Muted sobs shook her body. A choked, whispered cry tore from her mouth, Mama! Help!
Startled, Bruic whirled around. His eyes wide, he glanced toward the rocky ledges.
The men in the next cove. Had they heard the little girl cry out?
Struggling upright and lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, the girl brushed her tattered tunic and then raised both arms high to balance in the deep sand.
With a grimace meant to frighten, Bruic spun to face her, hoping to scare her back onto the ridge. Body bent, sword thrust before him, he rushed at her…but hesitated when he noticed the glazed look in her over-bright green eyes.
In a hoarse voice, she whispered louder. Help me. My mama…
A sharp whistle came from the next cove, followed by a shout. Badger?
Yea. Bruic called back over his shoulder in the language of his captors.
For a second time, flapping wings rose in the air. This time the birds flew higher, circled wider, and cawed their continued displeasure in much bolder tones.
With hands balled into fists, the girl stopped and covered her ears. She closed her eyes as if she thought closing them might make her invisible. She opened them slowly and moved closer, blinking hard. Man?
Another sharp whistle, accompanied by laughter and shouts from the men, far louder than the squawking of the birds, cleared the large rocks of the ledge. The men bellowed and cursed, obviously eager to leave the carnage they had created.
The same voice called, Badger? Come. It's time we leave this gods-forsaken hole.
Angered by the calls, Bruic hissed at the girl in broken Gaelic, his speech garbled, littered with Norse words. Get back, goose! He pointed to the next cove, then to the spot where the girl had come from. They're ready to leave this place before more guards come. He peered at her through squinted eyes. You don't want them to carry you away, do you?
She tilted her head but her gaze lowered to the ground. Her thumb went to her mouth; but she must have thought better of it for her hand quickly cupped her chin in a childish gesture instead. Her reactions puzzled Bruic. He wondered if she understood what he was trying to say.
She shuffled nearer. Her lower lip quivered. Help me find my mama?
He bent closer and spoke into her face, pointing to the dunes. Go. Hide. Now. He shoved her. She fell backward into the sand. Go back! he whispered, poking her shoulder.
Her unwavering gaze met his. They stared for an elongated moment. Her large eyes, the color of the deep sea, seemed to beg him for something.
Then, she glared at him and shook her head. No!
Why won't you listen to me, tiny one? I'm trying to help you, he said.
She pounded a fist in the sand. Mama. I want my mama.
Muscular Annar, his long yellow hair hanging to his shoulders, appeared on top of a boulder. Dressed all in brown, a black cloth over one eye, he made an unnerving picture against the soft blue of the sky, and his sudden appearance surprised Bruic. He jumped in front of the child.
The small girl trembled and turned onto her knees. Bruic forced her flat and put a foot on her shoulders. He heard her short, ragged breaths and, glancing down, saw her tears flow to form a lump in the sand. To keep her still and hide her presence, he knelt on one knee over her squirming body.
Annar adjusted his eye cloth, cupped his mouth, then yelled. It's your master, boy. He wants you. Now! Stop your prancin' amid the dead, pretendin' you're some kind of warrior-hero. He laughed and slapped his leg. Not yet, slave, not yet. He beckoned. Come along or we'll leave you behind.
Stay down, fool, Bruic rasped at her through clenched teeth, his knee pressing her deeper into the gritty ground with all his weight.
What have you there, boy?
Bruic shouted back, Nothing of worth…an old log.
The man chuckled but his face grew grim. With a great roar, he yelled, Hurry, boy, then leaped onto another rock and slipped out of sight.
~*~
Kellach gulped as she realized the man touching her was one of the bad ones. Unable to move, she had studied the man on the rock and recognized both the yellow hair and the black cloth draped over his one eye. He was the man who had thrown her mama to the ground and jumped on top of her.
Kellach wriggled but cringed. Would the man holding her hurt her? Carry her away? He stood, releasing her, and she crawled away, her heart pounding. Particles of sand had mixed with saliva in her mouth. She spat. Her chest heaved. Her knees burned from the coarseness of the sand. She turned toward the young man and narrowed her eyes to give him her fiercest look.
He grinned at her, before another whistle captured his attention. He ran toward the boulders, hesitating only once to look back. In a huge bound, he vaulted over several of the boulders and disappeared from her view.
Gasping to catch her breath, she sat still. Tears rolled down her face. Her legs shaking beneath her, she stood and searched the beach for her mother. She wanted to tell her what good girls she and Olwen had been. How they had hidden, holding each other hard, but never made a sound.
The two girls had watched Dun Geata's warriors fall, heard the terrible screaming of men and horses. They'd seen the bad men run after the ladies. Not even when the man with the patch jumped on Kellach's mama did the girls make a sound. Her mama screamed, but they stayed silent.
Now, everyone was silent.
Kellach curled a strand of her hair around a finger and picked her way across the beach, stepping around body parts. She thought she spied her mother's gray skirt and ran to the spot. A long piece of gray cloth, obviously ripped from her mother's garment, lay in strips on the blood-soaked sand.
Shocked and bewildered, she reverted to infancy, looking around and calling, Mama…? I hided like you said. Kellach's a good girl. Please, Mama… Her hand rubbed her chest. She looked at it as if it belonged to someone else. Numbness whipped her.
Several minutes passed until she understood her mama was not going to answer her. The bad men must have taken her away, for she was nowhere to be seen.
Kellach picked up the cloth and then fluttered her hand in a beckoning gesture toward the ridge, to Olwen who had hidden with her. She called out in a husky whisper, Olwen, come. Please come to Kellach. She waited. No answer came from the dunes.
Kellach's body chilled despite the warmth of the spring sun. Through a fog of shock, she sat by the water, her hand crumpling the piece of cloth she clutched in her hand. She pressed it to her cheek and mumbled a lullaby, rocking back and forth as her mama did when she sang to Kellach at bedtime.
Kellach choked and gagged on her melody, her tears flowing into the sea.
Chapter One
An Dun Geata, Gael-852 AD
>Destiny hurled him home to do a godless deed, a deed evil enough to live on in the memories of bards for eons to come.
Unable to ease the guilty ache in his heart over what he must do to his fellow Gaels, Bruic the Badger paced the shale-covered ground between a huge monolith and a band of hidden Norse horsemen. The monolith protected an ancient burial site close to the raid's objective, An Dun Geata fortress.
The nearby men, an elite set of guards, protected him.
During the night, a host of the men under his command infiltrated the stone beehive huts of those living across from the fort. He calculated this unusual strategy, the element of surprise, might work best to secure the area without loss of blood. His return to the land of his birth had come about through express orders from Olaf the White, who was attempting to reclaim Dublin from the Danes.
Drawing a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he worried over the release of his young sons held hostage by Olaf, and looked out to the nearby coves that hid his raiding party's ships. The coves would make fine ports for the trading Olaf desired, once all of Gael was conquered. Perhaps, the location of trading ports would please the man enough to free the twins.
The morn was bleak and still, yet the sound of the rolling ocean and the fragrant but fractious wind of dewy pre-dawn sang to Bruic's soul. He slid to a bare knee, crossed himself and whispered thanks for this restoration, however brief, to Gael. Unprepared for the vivid memory of his former visit to his homeland, Bruic's heart raced.
At thirteen, he had witnessed the natives annihilated, women raped and pressed into bondage, or slain on the spot. No group deserved such slaughter or enslavement once, much less a second time, and he recognized the general region as the one he had visited before. He shook off the internal guilt he'd held for years over his part in that earlier raid and made a silent vow. This one will be bloodless.
A hand signal from the nearby copse of trees caught his eye. Fergus, the only other Gael and his second in command, would dare attract attention. All others waited for Bruic's cue to move. Careful not to be seen, Bruic stood and darted toward the line of trees.
He peered into the branches where some of his men had chosen to hide. The rest stayed on the ground, holding the horses. An edge of anticipation sliced the air around the greenery, anticipation sharp as blades that lay concealed in the scabbards of his men.
What? Bruic asked, keeping his tone low.
Fergus, who sat hunched behind a wide tree trunk, spoke softly, The men are in position, Bruic, but impatient to begin. The animals grow restive.
Warn the men again. I want no spilling of the natives' blood, regardless of the resistance. That's an order, Fergus.
Short of an unexpected outburst, it should be an easy raid. It's only a minor queen in charge, one who must grapple with a Dark Druid's curse upon her. She'll have no strength to fight a greater force, nor will her people.
Bruic nodded. Keep my horse at the ready. It's almost time, but wait for a sign from me.
Aye. As always. Fergus backed further behind the trunk of the closest tree.
Bruic moved away on a spongy carpet of grass. Once again at the base of the monolith, he climbed from one boulder to another until he reached the top, where he lay prone. With a practiced eye, he studied the terrain below. The small number of huts across the narrow, rutty road…the small stone walls around the fields, set in precise lots to keep the cattle in…the escarpment soaring into the sky from beneath the fragrant ocean…the nearly impregnable stone fort with its massive wooden door…
His body stiffened, alert. Two people entered the yard through the fort's front portal. A red-haired woman and an older man, whose gray beard grazed his short neck, walked in the direction of the inner walls, set away from the sea. The woman reached up and dragged a multi-colored shawl over flame-colored hair.
Knowing the improbability, Bruic wondered if this woman could be the grown-up version of the child he'd saved from discovery years ago. With a shake of his head, he dismissed his fanciful thoughts of the little girl, who still sparked thoughts of his infamous day on a beach, and whose bravery had remained unforgettable throughout his life.
The people below drew closer to the walls weakened by those helping the Norsemen conquer the lonely fort. Surely the two would notice the undisguised damage done to the inner walls and even to the ones beyond. Would they alert the compound? How many others were within the fortress? A large number of raging Gaels might disrupt his plans for no bloodshed. Tension hung in the air around him, promising little relief.
The woman stopped, turned and then ran back toward the fort. Obviously, the destruction of the walls had been discovered. No shouts rang out. About to raise a hand to signal his men, Bruic hesitated. When the woman leaned against the fort, he knew he'd be better served to wait and watch.
But waiting was not something Bruic did well.
~*~
After seeing the deliberate damage to the barricades, Kellach's cloaked aversion to most men resurfaced and beat in her brain. Her main grudge against men had found its feet with her mother's seizure by foraging raiders.
Now, with this damage to the walls weakening the clan's security, Kellach's temper flared anew. The deliberate breach of safety sent a spear of burning anger through her breast. She raced toward the fort to confront the one man she suspected of such ruination.
Ronan, her over-king's stepson, must be behind the wreckage; one of his feeble attempts to force her into marriage.
All manner of sea birds, attracted by the unusual activity so early in the morning, flew over the promontory; riding lifts of air, squawking and swooping close enough to skim her shawl. She waved her arms to drive them away and tore across An Dun Geata's long yard.
Ordinarily her fiery nature simmered, then calmed, but today's destruction was beyond her ability to accept. She took little notice of the inactivity in the fields when her people should have been up and about their daily chores. Her makeshift shawl fell to her shoulders. Strands of long red hair flew into her mouth. Kell spit them out with the force of her fury and stubbed her soft boot on bits of shale.
Her breathing grew labored from her dash across the yard. Reaching the fort's entry, she leaned against the damp stones and gulped in cool air. Barely in control, she shoved the fort's massive door with her shoulder. The edge of the door smashed against the inside wall with a resounding crash and her tunic caught on a shard of wood. She grabbed the cloth with both fists, ripping it from the wood until it shredded in uneven slashes.
A moment passed while her eyes adjusted to the interior dimness and her breathing restored itself to a more normal rhythm. The bed pallets, set in the stone of the interior walls, were empty, except for one.
Och, Ronan, she muttered, then her voice grew harsh, Ronan! 'Tis past time to rise. Get up, you lout.
The man moaned from behind his furs and drew them closer around him. Have you no manners, Kell? 'Tis a guest I am, entitled to much better treatment.
Kellach inched toward his pallet, her back to the stone walls of the main hall. Better not to get too close to a man who might grab her without reason or encouragement. Be raising your pitiful body from those furs, she spat. Men are needed. The barricade walls need rebuilding.
What? Ronan flung the covers over his head and rolled over onto his side. Strands of yellow-haired hair were visible, his words muffled. What barricades? What are you saying so loudly? A mighty groan came from under the furs. Walls?
Kellach assumed his sluggish response was due to the amount of ale he'd drunk during last night's story telling. She wanted to shake him. Get up, at once, she stormed, her voice loud and shrill in her ears.
Ronan lifted his head from the furs and stared at her. His murky green eyes held dark mockery. Work on walls? Like a peasant? I think not, my sweet.
Then leave these grounds, she ordered. You and your men have caused enough uproar in the past few-
Uproar. What uproar? His words came in a rush, followed by a large yawn. Sweetness, your mouth is running from you. What are you saying?
The strife you and your guards cause. Chasing the women of my clan. Damaging our walls. Leaving us defenseless, so you and Morfinn can raid these premises. Those barricades have been our security and well you know it.
Ah, but Kell, the women of your clan are very lovely. Ronan cast a narrow-eyed look at her and raised his hand. Hold, my sweet. How could I damage anything? My men and I were here with you last night.
Not all of them.
Ronan stood, letting his furs drop from his naked body. Although tall and well made, his body held no appeal for her. Her upper lip curled into a sneer as he grabbed his leggings from a ledge above the pallet, pulled them on and belted them with a leather cord. Dressed, he sauntered closer to her until his hand touched her shoulder and his fingers dug in. She shrugged and edged closer to the door.
Kell, sweetling, what annoys you so? I wish only to take care of you, give you jewels, dresses made of more than the coarse cloth you now wear.
She whirled. Rule me is more apt! Heat rose inside her. Every muscle of her body was rigid. And if it's helping me you want, work on the walls.
Sidling closer to her again, he spoke softly, You get riled over things, sweet. Be of a lighter spirit, have love for living. He continued to approach.
Kellach raised her arm and stiffened it to stay him. She frowned, daring him to take another step.
No? All right, love. Tell me. What has happened to your barricades?
The mud and seaweed binding was scraped out. Rocks were toppled from the top. The barricades are neither as high as they should be, nor as sturdy. They've been weakened. Deliberately.
And you think I had something to do with it? Ronan moved behind her. His hand adjusted her shawl, then caressed her back, high, near her neck.
Kellach's insides froze at his touch. She twisted around and shoved him away from her. Her hands clamped to her hips. Was it not you who brought me news but a month ago?
What news? An uneven grin plastered on his face, he waved her closer. Come here, come. What did I tell you?
About Olaf fighting the Danes for control of Dublin? About his sending the Badger to terrorize the coastal areas? Did you not tell me this?
The Badger? Are you sure? Ronan's laughter soared through the vaulted hall. He clutched his sides in an exaggerated display. His laugh stopped as quickly as it started, with as little cause. He plopped down on the hall's center bench, his elbow on his knee, his chin in his hand. The Badger?
His face took on what Kellach considered his serious, about-to-lie mien, and he ground his teeth in annoyance. The sound pleased her.
You're right, he said, shaking his head. I did mention him. I said a lot of other things as well. His arms held in front of him, he said, How I would protect you, take care of you, see that you were not harmed? I swore it upon my sainted mother. Do you not remember all my words? I said them with such fervor.
The news was calculated to make me quiver with fright, like some rabbit in the fields. Kell approached the bench recklessly. Did you not warn me about the Badger? How fierce he is! How little he cares for human life!
Kell, my sweet, you cannot believe the Badger would travel here just to disrupt your precious life? Ronan stood and strolled toward his pallet. For a woman of intelligence, you often act the fool. With languid movements, he reached for a shirt, slipped it over his head and bent to pick up a tankard left on the floor the night before.
No doubt the contents were rancid by now, she thought. Ronan brought the mug to his lips and sipped. He swished the ale around in his mouth and swallowed it in a gulp. Some dribbled from the side of his lip onto his shirt, and Kellach looked away in disgust.
The walls must be repaired, she grumbled. We'll be needing food in the souterrains beneath the fort and yard, so we can withstand a siege.
As Ronan continued to swill the fluid, a fierce anger overcame Kellach. Knowing no wiles would work with him, she rushed over and slapped the tankard from his hand to the floor. What was left of the ale spilled on his clothing. The tankard crashed to the floor, where it clanked and bounced until it rolled to a stop.
Do you think I jest, you pitiful fool?
Ronan's face reddened. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and glared at her with venomous, narrowed eyes. He grabbed her around the waist and yanked her to his chest in a crushing grip. His breath was foul, his body odor rank.
Kellach brought her elbows down hard. She tried to twist away, but he cupped her face in a rough hand. He squeezed her lips into a pucker with his fingers. His mouth touched hers, his lips parted. He forced his tongue into her mouth, gagging her. The kiss was wet, invasive. Two day's growth of beard scratched the tender skin of her chin. She punched his stomach with all the strength she could muster.
He stumbled back, his stance belligerent, but he smiled. What you need, sweetling, is a man to make you behave like a woman should.
Don't be touching me again, she hissed, scrubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. So help me, I'll slay the next man who puts a hand on me.
Ronan swaggered closer, his fingers clasped behind his back. My sweet Kell, do you not comprehend that someday you will marry me? And be glad to do so. I have all things in my favor. My alliances with power far exceed your own.
Kellach moved toward the door. I have more important things to consider than you. My clan. My mother. I must find her, if she lives. Only she can rid me of this Druid's curse I carry.
He chuckled. My precious Kell. My fierce, feisty Kell. Lord, but you'll be a pleasure to tame. And I'm looking forward to doing just that.
She spun to face him. Before I come to you, I'll enter a nunnery and give myself over to God.
He came after her in a leap, clutched her wrist and wrenched it upward. Hold, Mistress Kell. Heed me well. His breathing turned fierce, his nostrils spread. When this threat to Gael is over and we are free again… In fact, even if I pretend fealty to Olaf the White, you'll be part of the bargain. I'll have you with Olaf's approval. Maybe, even with the Badger's own personal approval.
She twisted, trying to pull her arm away. I wouldn't count on it if I-.
Kelllllaaaach! The elongated shriek echoed through the hall.
The cry struck a chord in her. She shoved Ronan aside, raced through the open door and up the short set of stairs to the yard outside.
Chapter Two
>Thick dust curled above the eastern road and whirled skyward in spiraling clouds. Billows of gray, shale scraps surged to meet it. Kellach caught a glimpse of Lunn running as fast as he could, north of the fort, headed over the fields to the surrounding beehive huts.
She shouted to him, Call out our warriors! If only she had called out the warriors earlier, at her first notice of the tampered barricades. She hadn't, thinking it just one of Ronan's nonsensical ploys for her attention.
The noise of carts, the shouts of men and the hoof beats of horses traveling over the dirt roads to the fort turned the area into chaos. Sounds multiplied, vibrated, closed in on Dun Geata with more and more force. Kellach bolted north toward the homes of her people. Where were her warriors? They should have come streaming forward with the first call of her name.
A shriek rose to her mouth. She turned in circles. The earth trembled beneath her feet, as horses galloped everywhere, leaped over barricades, pounded the ground and stirred up fierce clouds of dirt. One thought entered her mind. Her weapons. In the fort. She had left them there.
Coughing and choking, she dashed blindly forward, her feet smashing the ground with enough force to sting them through the thin soles of her boots. She gasped. Her heart beat with the strength of high waves in a ferocious ocean.
She spun around, but shrouds of powdery earth flying through the air were so heavy, they obscured everything in front of her. The haze enveloped her. She stared at the filmy wall. Her throat was parched, her mouth clogged with grit. This was worse than any of the nightmares she'd suffered for years! Her sense of direction went awry. Where was she?
Her woolen shawl fell from her shoulders. She ignored it and shouted into the wind, Lunn! Lunn! Afraid no one had heard her, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shrieked louder, Call out our men. Warn everyone. Hurry!
She turned, bewildered. Not until she thought she saw Ronan's silhouette near the fort did she have any sense of her direction. He waved to her.
She yelled, We're being attacked.
He pointed to something behind her. Kellach spun around and peered into the dimness.
Through the fog of dust and flying shale, a huge black horse cleared obstacles with room to spare and raced across the expansive yard at the forefront of other horses. The man atop the black was as massive and muscled as the horse. Without doubt, he was leader of a raiding party with a force far superior to hers.
Horsemen tore across the fields and over low stone fences. Frantic hooves beat a rhythm upon the land, iron striking rocky soil. Mass confusion forced her in yet another direction. From there, she watched, bewildered, emotionless, frozen, as if she were a far distance from the action.
The surprise of the ambush stripped her of her usual bravery. She stood glued to the spot, unable to move, rooted in a horrid scene from the past. Memories assailed her. The devastation on the beach. Her mother's capture. Childhood fears and habits took control of her. If she closed her eyes, no one would see her.
Eyes shut to the onslaught of men and horses, she prayed to the Christian God and to the Druids to keep her people safe. A few horses pounded across the yard. They came close to the fort. Sparks rose where their hooves hit shale. Within moments, men and horses surrounded all the areas near the fort. Screams and cries filtered across the road from the huts. Her people!
A deep voice shouted orders. Mount guards at all possible entrances and exits. Careful, men. No bloodshed. The words resounded in her ears.
Someone with the same voice scooped her up. Watch out, you fool!
A muscular arm clutched her in a vise-like grip under her breasts. Breath flew out of her, as her back was crushed to a broad, naked chest. Her legs swung freely with the movement of the horse. For a moment she hung limp, then twisted to make the man release her. She scratched at his arm, digging deep with her nails, before turning her head and trying to bite him.
Foolish lass. You could have been trampled to death.
The voice was low, vibrant against her ear. The undertone, like a wild sea breeze, lingered by her lobe. A furry leather vest brushed against her arm.
Lunn, Lunn! she screamed, struggling against the strong arm that held her. Who had grabbed her? What was happening? She could see a broad, muscular chest and an angular jaw. An attached nosepiece shaded and hid the cheeks and eyes of a very large man. Braids hung out the sides of his leather helmet. My God! A warrior from the Northern Isles!
The braids bounced against the man's wide shoulders and swung to slap at her face, their movements like lashes from a whip. Poorly positioned on the man's hipbone and thigh, Kellach pulled away from him, but was snatched back before she could fall to the ground. She panted to catch her breath. The smell of the sea, leather and horse permeated her nostrils.
Fur stroked the side of her neck with each movement of either the horse or the man. His thick leg rubbed the fabric of her underskirt up around her knees. She struggled, her bared legs kicking at the man's calf. As he sped across the yard, the horse leaped to the side to avoid her kicks. Each step slammed her teeth together. With a flick of the man's wrist, the horse wheeled to face the barricades and stopped with suddenness that nearly forced her to fall. The arm around her tightened, and she swayed, forcing air into her chest.
In horror, Kellach watched what seemed like hundreds of men climb over the walls. They moved like ants over the fields and makeshift roads. Clouds of foggy particles swirling about gave her an unreal sense of time and space. Disbelief at the scene surfaced, casting her into despair.
Kicking and scratching, she curled her body and turned in the man's arm. The more she fought for release, the tighter he held her. She reached above her head. Her fists pounded his neck and the side of his face. She pushed away from him. Her booted feet kicked at his legs and caught his shin. Let go of me, you bastard.
He leaned back and looked down at her. It will do you no good to fight me, woman. I'll put you down when and where I want.
Hearing the man speak in Gaelic, not the Northern tongue she expected, shocked her. Fear clamored down her spine, then the courage of the vanquished replaced the fear. There was power in anger that deepened over the capture. In her mind, she cursed this stranger. She would avenge her people, her clan for this indignity. He and his men would suffer…
The black turned, galloped forward to the fort's entrance and stopped abruptly for a second time. The jolt threw her back against the man's chest. Air whooshed from her lungs. Her hand flew up and hit her in the mouth. Her teeth jammed together. Kellach slid down his leg to the ground and landed hard on her backside. Her muscles protested, and she shook a fist at the mammoth warrior. Bastard!
He looked over his shoulder. Milady! His icy laugh rolled over her.
She ignored him and returned her gaze to the scene before her. What she saw made little sense, far beyond the imagining of it. Her breath caught in her throat. Her heart battered against her chest in an uneven rhythm.
She squinted through the murk curling up in waves around the fort. Dust floated past her eyes and settled on her hair and her clothing. Had the day's light dimmed? Was this one of her terrible dreams? A dream with warhorses? Strange men? Drawn swords?
Kellach needed to touch something solid to settle herself in the present. Her hands groped behind her and met the damp stones of the fort. Their coolness comforted her, made her stiffen her back, but her body betrayed her. It refused to stop trembling. She leaned back against the stones, hoping to still her fears.
An enraged howl came from several paces behind her. She swung around onto her knees, her hand to her mouth. Lunn broke away from several warriors who guarded him. He charged to her side, slipped a hand under her arm and raised her to her feet.
'Tis all right, child. We have fallen, but 'tis not over. Our people are captured, but alive. His whisper was nearly lost, muffled in her hair. Stay alert. Just wait. And watch.
Kellach tilted her head to look past Lunn at Ronan, who leaned to one side of the fort's main door, his posture relaxed. Her eyes narrowed. She called to him through clenched teeth. Ronan, come. Defend me as you said you would.
Lunn stood in front of her with his arms spread out in an attitude of protection, his face ruddier than she had ever seen. He drew himself up and faced Ronan.
'Tis a traitor you are, conspiring with the raiders. He made a fist, lifted it above his chest and pointed a finger at Ronan with a gesture of furious disdain. Ye'd let me darlin' child be a victim to the men from the Northern Isles?
A nasty smirk of superiority twisted Ronan's handsome face. How fitting! Like her mother before her. Shoving Lunn to the side, Ronan moved to face Kellach. He gripped her chin in his hand. Well, sweetling, your hospitality has been most rewarding this past week, but I had better join my dear stepfather now.
Kellach swatted his hand away. She knew his promises were made of air, but she hoped to prick his sense of compassion with her words. Ronan, you said you'd protect me with your life.
Ah, my sweet, at the moment, your life doesn't seem to be in any danger.
Kellach gripped his upper arm. Ronan, stay and fight like a man.
Nae, sweetling, you stay and fight like a man. He pried her fingers off, one by one, and backed up. He chuckled and turned away, to toss his comments over his shoulder. Kell, you can't fight this warrior. He's the Badger.
The Badger? The man on the big black is the Badger?
Ronan spun around. He looked at her, a wide smile on his face, then he paused, slanted his head to one side and made an annoying sound like wind whistling through trees. Aye. The man who dropped you there.
The expression on Ronan's face grew serious. His hand came up to cover his chin. You know what a badger is, Kell. A furry animal that burrows in and steals your home from under you. Merriment rolled from between his lips, his words drifted on it. I'll fight the man my own way. For you, sweet, just for you alone.
The Badger, she whispered, hearing the fear in her own voice. She stared. The set of his powerful shoulders carried an aura of authority, the kind that brooked no disobedience. She felt her heart sink.
I did tell you he'd come, didn't I? Ronan's delighted laughter boomed across the crowded yard for all to hear.
The ridiculing sound pushed her to a peak of hot fury, dissolving her fears in the heat. She stared after Ronan's retreating figure, then to what she could see of the Badger-who seemed focused on the captured people his warriors were herding into the yard, forcing them into a large circle with pricks of swords and shoves. Emotions engulfed her, directed at both Ronan and the Badger.
A deep moan that originated in her belly fought its way to Kellach's closed lips. No nightmare this. This was happening now, before her. To her people. In bright sunlight. She grew cold with shame of being so easily conquered, but Lunn was right. This was not the time for retaliation. Let the uproar settle.
A sacred vow developed in her mind and lodged there. She straightened with the power of resolve. She would exact revenge on both men, later, when neither might expect it.
She leaned toward Lunn and pointed. That man is the Badger! He is the one who chases me in my nightmares, the one who stole my mother from me.
It cannot be, child. That was much too long ago.
But I know him. Somehow. From somewhere. I know I do.
Lunn spread his arms wide and smiled at her. Hush, darlin'. Come here by Old Lunn. We'll work things out together. For everyone.
Thoughtfully, Kellach brushed away clouds of dust still riding waves of air, climbing the rays of sunlight in striated lines of light and color. I must be seeing to the people. Their welfare must come before anything else. I promised Iomar.
Lunn grabbed her arm. Kell! There's naught you can do now. 'Tis done. The deed is done. For the moment. Wait.
She sagged against him and put her face against his broad shoulder. Och, Lunn…I've failed-to keep them safe.
He patted her back. Nae. They're all alive. 'Tis what'll matter in time.
Distinct words clamored above all other sounds and flew across the yard in deep rolling tones. I want everyone before me. If I must search anyone out, the penalty will be severe and quick.
Kellach's head snapped up. The resonance matched the tones of voices she'd heard in the horrific dreams that plagued her life. Its timbre struck a chilling chord. She shivered, then glared in direction of the sound. The Badger, of course. His back was to her. He had dismounted and given his horse to another.
He was larger than any man she'd ever seen, larger than the brutish men of her nightmares. Beneath his helmet, hair as black as a raven's wings clung to his broad neck. In no way did his fur vest hide the wide shoulders that descended to muscular arms. Large, square hands rested on a sheathed sword whose similar inscriptions and designs disturbed her dreams.
She tipped her head to one side to listen to the world around her. Ocean-going birds shrieked overhead. Waves pounded the rocky shore. Everything else seemed strangely hushed. This was no dream. No man chased her!
The Badger's voice slashed through her trance-like state, carrying an unusual familiarity about it.
You. Lady. A large hand pointed at her. Kneel before me and swear allegiance to your new lord, your master.
Eyelids lowered, chin high, Kellach locked her knees and forced her spine to stiffen. She spoke quietly. I kneel before no man. Her voice rattled in the caverns of her mouth and sounded hollow to her.
You'll kneel to this one before long. That is a promise.
Mustering the remnants of whatever dignity she still possessed, Kellach refused to look at him. 'Tis but the threat of a coward, she mumbled. Bitterness engulfed her, a bitterness so intense it beat against her chest, which suddenly felt concave and bony like the skinny ribs of a child. She could not catch her breath. Light-headed, she scanned the yard to get her bearings and to conceal her raging emotions.
The Gaels sat in a large group near a damaged inner wall. Their eyes focused on the ground. Men with drawn swords held them in an enclosed circle. Morfinn the Pale, her over-king, stood near the escarpment wall. Four warriors surrounded him. Was he, too, a captive? Why was he here? Had he come for Ronan?
Lady, did you not hear me? Take your place. There. On the ground. Like the others, the Badger ordered.
His voice sent tremors down her spine. He blocked the sun, his shadow falling over her. His massive hand, held palm up, protruded in front of her. Come, lady, he said. Your homage is required.
She slapped his hand away, barely noticing the collective groan from her people. She tried walking around him to seek Morfinn. Perhaps her over-king could make sense of this raid.
The Badger stepped into her path again.
Will you no' be moving from my way? I would speak with my king.
I cannot allow it, lady of Dun Geata, he said, impeding further motion.
She stood her ground and glanced up. The Badger had removed his helmet. Neither the peak nor nose guard shaded his face any longer. Sun shone on his dark hair…but lost its luster on the ebony cloth fastened over an eye.
In an involuntary motion, Kellach's hand rose to her chest. Her hand closed into a fist. A gasp of revulsion exploded from her throat; her body froze.
Och, the saints preserve us! The back of her fisted hand crept to her mouth. She pressed it tight against her lips. Nae-it can't be!
The Badger cocked his head, frowning. He seemed puzzled. He stared at her but made no movement in her direction.
Impotent rage flamed inside her and all semblance of reason left. A man wearing a black cloth over one eye had stolen her mother from her. A grating howl burst from her lips, a river of hot breath. You! Her voice cracked. The patch. You're the one!
Smiling grimly, Kellach concentrated on the eye cloth and dug in her waist pouch for her dagger. With a flourish, she pulled it out, brandished it in front of her and gathered her strength. Her body bunched for attack, the hilt of her dagger held in both hands. A pulse in her neck beat wildly.
Bastard! she screamed.
I am called by many names. I do not answer to all of them.
The tone of his voice struck a chord inside her that spelled danger, a tone she ignored. All this time, it was you! You pagan from hell!
The Badger spread his hands wide, as if yearning for a lost love. A moment stretched between them like a long-held breath. Foolish disregard of fear and an internal fury held inside for years gave power to her arms and hands. She raised them, and with a charge across the tiny space separating them, she brought her hands down in a line with his neck.
He ducked. One hand slid up her body. He clasped the blade handle and her wrist in an iron fist and raised them high. His other arm slipped around her waist, drawing her to him until her breasts were crushed against him. Wresting the dagger from her, he tossed it over his back. The instrument flew, hit the promontory wall and sailed beyond, bouncing from one boulder to another down the cliff, echoing off each rock it hit.
He lifted her off her feet, until they were eye-to-black-patched-eye and she closed hers. His broad hand on her spine radiated heat, branding an imprint through the material of her tunic and undergarment onto her skin.
My dear, he murmured against her mouth. What a charming welcome for the conquering hero.
He bent his head and covered her lips.
Kellach gasped in astonishment. His kiss was brash, a kiss of power by a conqueror. Energy flowed into her, creating a flaming torch of her insides, more disturbing because of the control he seemed to exert over it. The kiss was potent, claiming her as no man's kiss ever had.
~*~
Bruic shifted the woman's weight, slipped his thigh between her legs and hitched her closer. Except for the softness of full breasts, she was unyielding beneath his hands. Her lips were clamped together in a tight line, head held away. Her arms pushed against his chest.
Even coated with dust, her wild and shiny hair was as silky as the hair of the tiny child he had never forgotten. Might this be the wee girl he'd hidden with his body that day on the beach? That one had stamped her feet and demanded too.
Briefly he remembered how his master had made him pay for hiding the child from the others, when she could have been sold. But the child's courage had stayed with him, fostered by her mother, Alma, the woman his master had stolen. Even now, his heart went out to that brave child who had witnessed such a brutal battle and lost her mother.
How could they possibly be the same? This woman slashed with a dagger as if bent on a destruction of her own. Yet, it was such defiance and ferocious valor that had led him to this shore and committed him to a bloodless raid.
Her hot, undisguised fury displaced the memories and made storms within him blow more fiercely. They filled him with a restless need he refused to acknowledge. Her tense form challenged him. His arms tightened around her. His kiss became more searching, seeking a response.
None came.
With reluctance, he placed her on her feet but kept her hands over her head. He glowered at her, insolent, as if examining livestock. Her breasts rose and fell with every breath. The fulsome smoothness of her body did little to ease his unusual reactions to her.
Tall, well formed, made to grace a man's pallet, her features, sculpted by strong bones, intensified the green of her eyes. Beautiful, he thought, except for the rage lurking behind them. He leaned closer. A flicker of fear flamed in her eyes but was quickly extinguished while she labored to free her wrists. She glared at him.
He smiled at her foolish attempts to escape. She rewarded him with a sneer. She was, obviously, a woman to both arouse and infuriate a man at the same time, but his inner demons whispered to him that wrath would hold no sway over this red-haired beauty. He wondered if embarrassment might.
His voice boomed across the yard to the sea beyond. Och, dear wench… Many women have thrown themselves into my arms but none with such fervor as you. With great reluctance, he let her slip from his arms and stepped back.
With a courtly bow, he touched two fingers to his brow in a salute, then turned and headed to the center of the yard. Irate footsteps stamped the shale behind him. The woman, no doubt. Why did she pursue him? Didn't she understand her position at the moment? Or the position of her clan?
A thought occurred to him. Another dagger? Merciless anger built within him. Defiance could not be allowed if he were to gain control. No one must misunderstand his intentions to rule here. He would bend this fiery lass to his will, make her an example for unwarranted behavior.
He whirled and pointed his forefinger at her. Stop where you are! Your Gaelic people live. No one's been harmed. No looting has occurred, nor will it. He threatened, towering over her, Mind yourself, woman.
She stepped forward. Her fists battered his chest. Bruic caught both flying hands in one of his own and looked down at her. Mimicking the Gaelic lilt, he said in a deep, loud voice, Och, lass, yer eagerness to be enjoying me favors flatters, to be sure. But I only have time for one wee kiss. To be calming you down a mite, I'm thinking. You seem a bit extended beyond yerself, you do.
Calm me, you insufferable-
He swept her off her feet. Her arms and legs flailed about in a series of ineffectual kicks and slaps. He peered into wide-set eyes, as bold as an angry sea. They charmed him, so bright were they. With a studied nonchalance he did not feel, he bent his face and covered her full lips again. Hers were smooth, like silken cloth, and seemed more pliant than before. A steady rhythm beat within his chest and strummed against his vest.
His touch on her mouth was light, inquiring. He flicked the tip of his tongue into the creases at the ends of her mouth. When she drew in an audible breath, he crushed her to his chest. The kiss deepened. He nipped her ripe lower lip.
His reaction to her, unlike his reaction to most women, was quick and surprising. He was a man of war, had become so, fighting for one lord after another to gain status in the world. War was honest. Slay or be slain was its rule.
The woman struggled in his arms, pushing hard in opposition. She jerked away and stopped his mouth from exploring. He drew back. He had never taken a woman by force, never needed to, nor did he intend to now. He set her on her own two feet, stepping away. A strange mixture of strength, courage and vulnerability shaped her face, confounding him with its energy. This woman would do nothing against her will.
He held up a hand and gestured to Fergus. When the red-haired man stood at his side, Bruic pointed. Guard the lass. I do not trust her to behave. Her mouth wears a grim expression. He hesitated, then continued. Also, clear the fort of any staying there, he ordered. They may sleep under the stars or wherever. Set up pallets for our officers and this much-too-eager lass. He grinned at her. You. You will be guarded until everything is sorted out. He turned on his heels.
Be wary, Badger. Vengeance will be mine. Her voice was soft.
Bruic wheeled to face her, his annoyance overcoming his usual ability to ignore those who displeased him. Vengeance is it, lady? You'll do as I say. Like it or not. He glanced at Fergus, who had a hand on the lass's arm. Keep her quiet until I am ready for more of her bullying.
Bullying? Kellach yanked her arm away from the burly Fergus.
Bruic ignored her and addressed the assemblage in the yard. I will not tolerate rebellious actions. You will settle to my rule, for rule I will. You do my men any harm, I will be forced to retaliate in kind, or worse. Declare your fealty to me as your lord or you leave this place, this country, perhaps, even this world. I leave the decision up to each of you.
A man seated with the Gaels, stood and stepped to the head of the group. His voice rang out over the crowded yard. I am Lunn the Strong, from this very place. I have lived and worked for this clan all of me days. And I am always treated fairly, I'm addin'. Aye, treated most fairly. He looked at the Badger. Do you think to change that, sir?
The Gaels on the ground, having heard this declaration, sat straighter, their bodies more alert. Wanting no minor revolt, Bruic held his anger, stared at the older man facing him and spoke quietly, You are a brave man to taunt me in what is now my fort. Come closer.
Lunn lifted his chin and faced the Badger squarely. It is best I stay here. What might you wish of me?
Who is that woman to you? he asked, indicating Kellach with a nod of his head.
That be Queen Kellach, ruler of An Dun Geata, and like me own dear child. I owe me loyalty to her as I did to her late husband, master here before his untimely death. By men like ye, no less. Lunn hesitated. Or so tales of his valor claim.
Kell of Dun Geata? Her? Bruic shifted his stance to gaze at her. So that is Kell, the infamous Bride of the Peninsula. The much-married, much-cursed Bride of Corca Dhuibhne.
He stared for a brief moment. It was the same little girl Alma had spoken of so often, love for her daughter shining in her eyes.
Happy at discovering the feisty little tot from the beach, his laughter soared on the wind and rose above the escarpment to the sea. It drove the birds from their nests. The sound of their caws and squealing fluttered high above the yard and tangled with his unbridled glee.
No one would understand his reason for humor. His unrestrained laughter was less than kind, but he could not stop the bellowing humor nor could he look directly at her again. Hoping to make light of his foolishness, he inclined head and said between chuckles he was unable to control, Och, but you wear your cursed affliction well, milady.
~*~
The events unfolding in the yard afforded Ronan great amusement, until the Badger kissed Kell. The first was an obvious show of power, but something in the second angered him. His body tense, Ronan closed his fists and mumbled, I will bloody my sword. Straight into the bastard's heart.
Had his stepfather not held onto his tunic, he might have withdrawn his sword and run it through the Badger's back. Ronan smiled grimly when the huge warrior spoke to Kell as if she were a child. That behavior was more to his liking.
He leaned toward his stepfather and said behind his hand, It seems the Badger does not enjoy Kell's insipid, child-like kisses.
That will not favor our position. Morfinn replied, his eyes narrowing as he spoke, his lips barely moving.
Ronan frowned at his stepfather. I don't understand.
Morfinn took his elbow, edged him farther away from the guards who stood nearby, and selected a more private area along the low stone wall He turned his body toward the ocean and whispered, We need her to get information, to deceive the Badger into trusting her.
There are other women who could learn his secrets and be easier to deal with than Kell. I don't want him near her.
You are right! Most women here would be easier for any man to deal with, including you. Morfinn stared at him. What troubles ye, son?
Ronan shook his head. What he might do to her if he learns she deceived him. What if he harms her? He grimaced. I don't like it. Not at all. Let her listen at doors, keep her eyes open. Nothing more is necessary.
What does it matter, anyway? If she runs off with the fool, then Dun Geata will be yours to rule as you like, Morfinn grumbled.
I want Kell. Everything about her intrigues me, torments me. I've wanted her since I first saw her years ago. She will be mine soon, sooner than you think.
Your wanting her was merely young man's fancy. One you've should have outgrown or controlled better. If her actions are indications, she despises you.
Ronan whirled around to face his stepfather. She pretends.
Morfinn laughed and slapped Ronan's shoulder. A pretense for more than ten years. You'd be better off without her. He leaned in. Once the Badger learns of her duplicity, he will cast her aside. She'll come begging for you then.
Ronan pressed against the old man, easing him away. She'll never beg.
Morfinn's smile twisted. His dark brown eyes glowed. Aye, she will. Her people won't stand more of the Druid's curse. It affects them-throughout Gael.
Ronan's face grew warm. I'm your stepson. Would you want me to marry her, if you truly believed in that curse? Do you want me dead? Is that it?
Holding his hands in front of him, Morfinn backed away. He sank to the stones of the ocean wall and reached behind him for balance. His hands clung to the very edge. I didn't say I believed in the curse.
Ronan placed an arm on each side of his stepfather and stood over him. Tell me old man, what is the truth about the Druid's spell upon her?
You're pushing me. I'll fall onto the rocks below. Morfinn's voice reached a high-pitched squeak. Move off. Ronan backed up a step. Morfinn vaulted to his feet and sidled away. I will tell you the story later. It is not the time.
Ronan crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his chin. He wanted the woman and all she and her clan had to offer. Was Morfinn manipulating him, using his feelings for Kell to some advantage?
The Badger's harsh laugh rang out across the yard. Ronan turned from his stepfather, who said, The warrior insulted Kell over the curse upon her. He laughed in her face.
Ronan smiled broadly, enjoying the moment to its fullest. 'Tis good.
How had the Badger known about the Druid's curse? Morfinn must have told him. Perhaps, the king, in his own sly way, would ensure his stepson's claim to Kellach and the An Dun Geata lands.
Satisfied with his thoughts, Ronan grinned at the older man and patted his shoulder. Perhaps, you are right. Everything will work in my favor. I'll wait.
Chapter Three
>This day seemed drearier than the day before.
Side by side, Kellach and others of the clan performed the duties of servants. On silent feet, they milled through the hall, waiting on the conquerors, filling their tankards with ale and their plates with food. An unnatural, apprehensive pall had fallen. No Gaelic voices raised in laughter, song or even argument. The people spoke in muffled tones, briefly muttering their words.
When the Badger entered, his stride long and sure, the Gaels parted to let him through, while his men greeted him with slaps on the back and calls of good will. A saffron-colored cloth going from the hidden corner of his eye to his ear lobe had replaced the offensive black one over his eye. He seemed unaffected by the blood seeping from his obviously fresh wound beneath the cloth.
With narrowed-eyed scrutiny, the Badger took note of Kellach's every movement. When his gaze rested elsewhere, she cast secret looks at him, unable to ignore the strange pull he created in her, the feeling of familiarity. Both his disregard and his attention made her uneasy.
Tonight, keeping her eyes downcast, she made herself as unnoticeable as possible and ambled to the entrance door. She stood for a moment. When the Badger talked to Fergus, she slid noiselessly into the night.
Ocean winds wailed around her. A whirl of leaves and tiny pebbles skittered along the ground. The huge oak, which had withstood the winds and improper soil for generations, lifted its branches to the sky as if in prayer. She raised her arms in a like fashion, wanting to fly away on the wind's strong wings.
The moon cast misshapen shadows and colors on Dun Geata's forlorn grounds. A heavy mist from the sea cleansed her face. She dug into her waist pouch for a cloth and wiped the sweat and grime from her face. Rivulets of fog soaked into her hair. Undoing her long braid, she ruffled it with her fingers.
A wolf howled a plaintive call in the distance. The animal's needy attempt to contact its kind touched her. She wished she could howl with the animal; call out wild bits of information to someone who might listen. She sank to her knees. Her emotions ran askew. Everything was dark, hidden in the dense fog from the ocean.
Kellach wrapped her shawl tighter around her, stood and looked about for some sanctuary. Her garden, her refuge from troubles. She would go to her garden. The decision made, she walked to the damp sides of the cooking shed and patted the wall until she reached the shed's slightly ajar, stout door. She pushed it open farther and slid her arm through for the root basket she kept by the door.
A hand snaked from behind the entrance, snatched her wrist in a vise-like grip and yanked her inside. Odiferous fingers dropped over her mouth before she could utter a sound, and a knee forced her flat on the ground, crushing her breasts against the earthen floor.
The harder she labored to rise, the greater the force holding her down. Her body vibrated with a fear that stoked the innards of her belly. She saw little in the darkness, and her temples pulsated with terror as she twisted to free herself.
Someone eased the door shut, closing out the sounds of the wind and the waves crashing against rock. A side of her face was jammed against the pebbled dirt floor. A trickle of blood seeped from her nose. An unidentifiable murmur pressed into every fiber of her body. The gritty sound kept time with the pounding of her heart and squeezed what energy she had left. Defeated, she lay flat, spent.
I told you I'd have you under me some day, sweetling. Not the way I planned, but circumstance sways me to behave in this roguish manner.
Ronan! A surge of fury replaced fear. She tried to speak, but her words, muffled by his hand, came in a jumbled squeak. >Son, let me converse with the lass. Morfinn bent and looked into her face, his breath gamy. Dear lass, if we agree to let you up, will you stay quiet until we have finished our wee talk?
Aye…!
Kellach curled her body, rolled and shoved Ronan to the side. Get off me, you piece of dung, she cautioned. I warned you before. Never touch me without permission. The next time, I'll split you down the middle and hang you off both sides of a log. I do not jest. She swung at him.
He rotated out of her reach, stood quickly and moved away. His chuckle echoed through the empty room. My wee she-devil.
Morfinn's whiny voice hissed, Be quiet, you foolish ass. D' you wish to be heard in the next building? The Badger will suspect us of double-dealing.
Do I care? He can believe what he wants, Ronan grumbled. We are under the protection of the High-Ri of Munster. Isn't that enough?
The high king will grant you nothing if he finds you following his wishes, for the sake of a mere woman, Morfinn said.
Kellach stood and dusted off her tattered tunic. Stop your bickering. Do we not have trouble enough here? Speak your mind and have done with it.
Have you fallen for that overgrown oaf you kissed? Ronan grunted for emphasis. I noticed how he stares at you. And I don't like it.
Kellach reached for her lips, realized what she was doing, and made a fist instead. She shook it in Ronan's face. You're a fool, just as your stepfather described you. As if I had a choice. Have you nothing else to accuse me of?
His indrawn breath rose in the darkness. You're the fool. I've heard stories. Ladies of Dublin and Waterford rush to get into his bed furs. Are you of their ilk?
Kellach turned from him. I don't believe what I'm hearing.
I have spies in Waterford. He brought some woman from Norway and several children. Scattered them from Waterford to Dublin, I hear. Ronan spun her around. His voice pitched higher. I watched you. I saw you kiss him.
Kiss him? You have it mixed up in your mind like butterfly wings, you ass. Kellach held up her hand. Enough. Why have you dragged me in here?
Ronan continued, I saw you in the hall. Waiting on him as if he were a king. You've never treated my stepfather so. Has she, Morfinn?
Morfinn shook his head. Nae.
Och, you are beyond a fool, Kellach said through tightened lips. Aye, I'll wait on him if it will aid my clan. What would you have a slave do? The man could sell me. The thought made her tremble. She must stay until she found her mother.
Ronan clasped her arm and spit his words at her. Don't trust his charm. He'll use you and toss you away. Like those same men did to your mother.
Kellach's temper snapped, Speak what's on your mind or begone. 'Tis sick of the very sight of you, I am.
Morfinn leaned toward her. He spoke softly. We need help, Kell. The barbarian has allowed us to go home but intends to send his men as escorts.
She backed away from him, not liking where this conversation was going. Morfinn moved forward, captured her forearm in his grasp and twisted. The Badger doesn't treat us right, though we've pledged loyalty to him and Olaf.
Why? Kellach stared down at his hand on her arm.
Morfinn removed his hand. His body stretched in her direction, tense. A sly look settled on his face. Neither the Badger nor Olaf know of our dealings with the high Ri' of Munster. The Badger must be kept here, under some ploy or another, until the high king can rouse all Gael. He must not find harbors and bring others. Our resources will float away on the seas to Olaf and the Northmen.
Kellach had little faith in Morfinn, less in Ronan, but they were Gaelic, almost kin. In her childhood, she had twice married into their clan, attended their festivals, and celebrated their victories. More than once, she followed the clan's orders, mourned their losses and stood with them against invaders. If Morfinn thought her a false friend, her life in Gael, her dreams for her people, would crumble.
Her anguish echoed in a groan. What would you have me do?
Morfinn took her hand. This will be an easy task for one of your beauty.
What? What have you planned?
Suddenly, the moon came from behind a cloud to cast an eerie light on the room. The whites of Morfinn's eyes blazed. His face glowed, greasy from oil.
Make the Badger trust you, he said, enough to allow your freedom about the fort and with your people. After a while, he won't pay much attention to you, and you'll be able to come and go as you please.
Ronan added, The Badger must provide for everyone. Your people and his men. He must repair the walls to secure the fort from outside interference. He'll be too busy to watch a woman visiting with her friends.
Kellach smiled inwardly. Thoughts of the Badger confused her, the familiarity of him. She closed her eyes, until a devastating notion overtook her. A conquered Gael? She'd never find her mother. She must go along with their plans.
Why ask me? The Badger trusts no one but his friend, Fergus. He converses with clansmen, ignores me, but defers to Olwen and Lunn.
Morfinn whispered, Olwen's not a brave person, and Lunn would be too obvious. Plus, he would not leave your side to carry messages.
Ronan unlatched and opened the door. He peered outside. Father, we can't stay here much longer. The Badger will send someone after her soon.
He didn't notice that I left the hall, Kellach said.
Don't you believe it. Someone came from the hall after you. Morfinn lifted his hands, palms up. Haven't I always done my best for you? I tried to give you a home after your mother was taken. I've tried to find her. 'Tis only you to keep Gael safe from the invaders. For your mother's sake.
Should she trust these two? But the prospect of finding her mother...if Morfinn could do that, she'd sacrifice anything.
Morfinn stood with his hands on his hips, tapping one foot in a static rhythm. We should go before someone finds us. Come, lass, your answer.
All right, she gulped. I'll do what I can for Gael! But, you must look for my mother. I would have her restored to me. She stared at them, then asked, How far must I go to have the Badger trust me?
Morfinn grinned. As far as you need go. The Druid's curse might fix him so you need not do more. He chuckled and chucked her under the chin.
No. Ronan strode to his stepfather's side. She will not.
Aye. I agree with Ronan, Kellach said. I need not go too far.
Morfinn added, Perhaps, we can find a priest to deliver you from the curse. And if we find your mother…
Knowing the curse upon me, you would have me wed your stepson? She pushed Morfinn out of the way, walked to the door and opened it slightly.
Wait, Morfinn called softly, if you're able to sneak out of the fort, send for one of us. We'll come to your aid.
Fine! She bent to retrieve the bowl she needed.
Morfinn tapped her shoulder. Dear child, let us go first, he said, inching through the partially opened doorway and slipping into the fog.
Ronan moved to the door but swiveled around. You'll be mine before this is over. That I promise you.
Kellach wrinkled her nose in displeasure at the thought. I'd rather be dead.
That could be arranged. He tossed the threat in the air before grabbing her face in one hand and pressing his wet mouth on hers. Until our marriage.
Whistling, he padded through the open doorway as if he hadn't a care in the world.
~*~
Kellach had not returned to the fortress after slipping out. Suspicious about the possible cause, Bruic stamped from the hall, nearly tripping over Morfinn and Ronan, who were standing by the stairs. Maintaining a stern demeanor, Bruic slipped a hand under the older man's elbow to keep him from falling. Where have you two been? You left without permission?
Morfinn responded with varying degrees of hesitancy. We took a turn outside. To clear our senses, of course… He coughed into his hand. We had a hearty walk and stood by the wall, listening to the sounds of the sea. The waves crash against the rocks with such force, you know. Stretching his arms above his head, he yawned loudly as if to divert attention from his words.
The old man disgusted Bruic. He had the appearance of a rascal. If the two thought to turn him from his goal, they were fools.
Ronan nodded in compliance with his stepfather. We were in sight, until the fog spread over us. Thick, it was. He splayed his hand out in front of him. I'm sure the sentries saw us. Go ahead. Ask them.
Morfinn laughed and poked Ronan in the chest, playfully. Aye. You know how the fog is here, so dense. In full sight we were, until dark clouds hid the moon and fog rolled in. My stepson told you right. Darkness descended on us. He laughed for no logical reason. We had to inch our way back to the fort. The cold stones of this very building were a comfort, to be sure, he added.
The two men glanced at each other and Bruic studied their faces. Not for a minute did he believe them, nor did he trust them. Did you see Kellach moving about the yard? She has disappeared, much as you gentlemen did. Were you together, perhaps?
They looked at each other quickly. Morfinn's eyes narrowed and he simpered, I didn't see her milord. I spent my time watching gulls riding the wind gusts, leaping into the air. They were quite amusing. When we neared the promontory wall, the wind blew too hard, so we started back to the fort.
Ronan added, I, too, enjoyed the scenery, until the wind whipped us so hard I could barely see. Everything swirled, blinding us to all but sounds.
Bruic's impatience grew with each flowery statement, but he held his temper. Why anger these Gaels until the fort and its people were under his full control? He saw the two exchange glances. The sooner they were gone, the better he would like it. They were thorns in his plans.
Morfinn's hand crept to his white beard. He stroked it with a pale hand. Och, I do believe I saw Kellach going toward the cooking area. There's a plot to the back of it where she grows her herbs and medicinal plants. She often hides there, on a narrow bench amongst the rowans. She's quite a healer, you know.
No, I didn't, Bruic flipped over his shoulder as he moved away.
Morfinn called after his fleeting figure. Milord? We've decided to leave for home in the few days or so.
Without looking in their direction, Bruic called back, Good.
Ronan stammered, I did not realize you intended to leave so soon.
'Tis time we left. Let things occur here without our help.
But Kell…? Ronan asked.
Will do what needs to be done. She would have no interest in a man who stole her clan from under her and enslaved her people to boot. She's a patriot. Besides, when I told her I'd look for her mother, I knew she'd do anything I asked. The fool has been searching for that mother of hers since she was a bairn.
What do you mean by anything?
Whatever is necessary, I'm sure. Without compromising herself personally, of course. The two smiled at each other. I do believe the Badger has an interest in our dear Kell. For some reason it has nothing to do with her charms, and I hope it's sufficient to gain us the information we need for the cause.
Ronan frowned, his face a sad line of disapproval. I doubt his interest. you know what's strange, though? The Badger went out of his way to avoid bloodshed. 'Tis not like men from the North. I think something far deeper lies behind his deeds, something more than his promises to Olaf the White.
I believe you're right. I dinna' know what that might be, but it has to do with our Kell. 'Tis almost as if he had known her before.
Now, you're being the fool. How would he know our Kell?
Morfinn patted Ronan's shoulder 'Tis just a hunch of mine.
It's a bad one, for sure, Ronan said. I feel strongly about this. I would hate to go up against the man, over a woman, but Kell…Och, it will not happen. No, I'm sure we will settle things quietly, he said, his laugh booming out.
Nevertheless, he thought, I will watch the two until I leave for home. Thinking of the possible punishment the Badger might inflict upon the disobedient Kellach, he grinned. Why, the man will force her to seek me out!>~*~
Alone in the cooking shed, Kellach's troubled and exhausted mind betrayed her. She slid down the doorframe to the floor, brought her knees to her chin and hugged them to her chest. Feelings turbulent and despairing passed through her, thick as the damp mist outside, and she pressed her forehead to her knees.
What made men act so boorishly in her presence? The Druid's curse? Only Iomar and Lunn had ever treated her with any kindness.
With no man to lead the clan, An Dun Geata was bereft in Gael's war-torn society. The anxiety, which had followed her since her mother's capture, plagued Kellach. She missed the closeness she assumed they would have had.
Ragged sobs burst from her body, but she fought them off. With her people in captivity, there was no time to give into some foolish, womanly weakness such as tears. If they were all to survive, she had to be strong, smart.
Pushing stray hairs back from her brow and sighing, she dragged herself to her feet, clutched the wooden bowl to her breasts and tore out of the door of the shed, as if banshee demons themselves were chasing her. She stumbled over loose pebbles and tripped on tufts of uneven ground on her dash to the garden.
The tangy smell of the sea filled her lungs, and the beating sounds of waves crashing against the escarpment filled her heart. The clean, dank odor of the fresh seaweed and sand she used for plant soil refreshed her and gave her hope that her problems would be solved soon.
The fitful moon illuminated a straggly copse of rowans clinging to the rocky, sandy soil. Planted years before to ward off witches, the trees hid the narrow bench set between their twisting branches. Kellach staggered to it and slumped down. Bending, elbows on knees, head bowed, she sucked in huge breaths of air. Her face was wet with sweat or tears or moisture from the heavy fog. Her eyes blurred.
But what had she to see? Recurring scenes of a man with a black eye patch leaping on her mother? As an adult, Kellach understood the significance of that singular act; nothing had gone right since she witnessed it. She shook her head. This line of thought would only obscure Dun Geata's current situation.
Fear of the Badger surfaced, but some bit of familiarity stopped the frightful picture of him she had in her mind. But he was just another raider, no different than those on the beach. She would either have to exact revenge for her mother's sake or die in an attempt.
With only the unpleasant company of her thoughts to guide her, she leaped from the bench to pace the rows of vegetation and grumbled, No good to think about the past, now. 'Tis managing the future I should be worrying about.
What would she have to give the Badger in return for information? Days ago, wearing that horrid black patch, half-hidden by his dark hair, he had kissed her. Although he must have sensed her loathing the first time, he had kissed her again. For what reason? True, his kisses shook her, created a vibrant physical sensation in her, but those very kisses made her fear him more. The emotions churning inside her were acute. Hatred. It must be hatred I feel so strongly.
>Her hand fisted. She raised it to her face but uncoiled it when her tucked forefinger touched her lips. She could still feel the Badger's soft kiss. His had been so unlike Ronan's, whose sloppy, wet mouth made her gag in distaste. Or like those of the warrior she had married. He had touched her mouth only briefly before he climbed on a gift horse to lead the celebratory hunt. To his death.
If the Norseman expected her to succumb to his kisses, he was mistaken, just as Ronan was. Why was she even thinking about the Badger? She couldn't have any tender ideas about men from the Northern seas. They had devastated the area years ago and now had enslaved her clan. They were the ones who had taken her mother away. She wouldn't think of them. She wouldn't think of him.
She slumped onto the bench again, emotionally exhausted. Immediately, a strange restlessness pushed her up to charge across the garden yet another time. A noise, barely hear above the wind, stopped her motion. She looked around but saw no one and snickered at the foolish fancies. A derisive laugh escaped her mouth.
To ease the hurt her foolishness caused, she plucked a spring flower from its stem. Its fragrance filled her nostrils and made her feel better than she had in days. Separating the petals, she rubbed them over her face, down her neck and into her hair before tossing them to the ground.
Perhaps she'd gather some herbs and medicinal roots. Kneeling in the dirt, she jerked her coarse tunic up and rubbed one knee raw. Damn it to hell.
Do you always curse?
A pulse in her neck beat in rhythm with the words. She heard the short chuckle and spied a pair of leather boots near her own. The Badger and she were alone in the foggy garden and away from others who might help her. What now? With an abrupt motion, she looked up, tipped over and smacked the firm ground. Blocking every speck of light from the moon, the Badger stood above her, his arms crossed over his wide chest, his legs apart.
Do you always stand taking the sun from people's eyes or the moon from their hearts? What she could see of his face in the dimness showed apparent displeasure. Then why had he chuckled?
A corner of his firm mouth curled on the edge of a smile. Do you always swear? he questioned. And, do you always work in your garden in the middle of the night with no candle or flare to guide you? Seems a senseless task to me.
And what would you know of women's tasks, senseless or otherwise?
Perhaps you'll teach me.
Kellach stared at him. What did he mean? Suspicious, she couldn't stop viewing him. His face arrested the eye's attention. Even in dark shadows, his features were the essence of masculinity. His hawk-like nose and his mouth-ah, his mouth, firm, sensuous. The very sight of his lips made her shiver. Drops of moisture clung to his forehead. Thick black locks fell onto his brow and framed his face. The ruddy color of his bare shoulders and his sun- darkened face gave testimony to the outdoors, the rugged world of the warrior. His face was etched with lines only the wind and sun could engrave.
For a moment, she was taken aback. That the Badger might look other than a battle-scarred and ugly old man never occurred to her. Never would she have envisioned such a handsome man to be a notorious barbarian. He had some reason for being at An Dun Geata, an out-of-the-way place on the island. Kellach worried about the Badger's secret motivation.
Perhaps, Morfinn was right, but the rumors of the Badger's disregard for life had not led her to believe he could perform a bloodless coup, let alone allow everyone in the clan to live in relative peace. She should not allow herself to be fooled by his supposed generosity. She needed to learn the underlying reason for his being here and what he was after, for her clan and her country.
Knowing obeisance was due a conqueror, she refused him that courtesy by shrugging her shoulders and turning away, her anger assuaged by what she considered a triumph against protocol. Sliding back onto her knees, she dug into the ground with her bare fingernails.
A stubborn root unearthed in her hand, and she fell onto her side, one elbow firmly embedded in the dirt. His hand slipped under her other elbow, and he lifted her to her feet. She felt the warmth of his breath. His touch sent a needle of sensation up her arm. Unused to being touched softly, she shivered and her face heated.
He turned her toward him. Lady, do you think to plague me with perverse obstinacy?
What are you doing here? I can easily manage on my own. I don't need any help from you.
Yea, you do, milady. You just haven't realized it yet.
She tried to ease her elbow from his grasp, but his fingers held her close. I've functioned so far in me life without your help. I'll be lasting a few more years by myself. She yanked her elbow away, nearly tipping to the side again.
Och, but what kind of years? Bruic asked, reaching out to steady her.
The gentleness of his touch startled her. Her head bowed, she shrugged again. Don't you worry about my years. 'Tis my problem how I spend them, and none of yours. She knelt, dug up several more roots from the patch and tossed them into a pile near the basket.
Nae, you're wrong. He looked down at her, his face grim. Something different made his words sound menacing. This fort is now mine. I must worry about all the folks within its walls. That includes you.
Yours? I think not. She avoided looking at him and grabbed several roots at once. She grunted and pulled hard. Far more vegetation and soil came up than planned. It sprayed over his boots. Modulating her voice so she had more control of it, she said, This is Dun Geata land, all owned by my late husband, Iomar the Archer. It's been in the clan for hundreds of years. The woman you spoke to, thick with child, is Iomar's daughter, Olwen. So, it's not yours for the taking.
Bruic's response came swiftly. Ah, wrong again. The entire clan is forfeit to me. His words hovered in the air between them. It is mine by right of battle.
Kellach leaped to her feet and threw the plants in her hand down near his boots. She faced him, aping his posture, her hands on her hips, her chin thrust in his direction. His face was all stark angles from the predatory shape of his nose to the high cheekbones, the broad lines of forehead above his eye slashed by a raw scar. Ye dinna' battle for it. You took it by subterfuge.
His intense gaze skimmed over her. I call it strategy. And the saving of lives.
And you think to keep it for your very own. Well, think again, me fine, overgrown warrior. You never had to face our brawny Gaels and until you do…
His face showed no emotion other than determination and his patrician features seemed carved from granite. I will keep it.
More determined than he, she stepped to him, pushing her chin as near to his face as she could without standing on her toes. Over my dead body…
I had hoped that would not be necessary.
Och, a threat. Now you're resorting to threats, she whispered. Stung by his attitude, she continued, 'Tis not the first time I've been threatened, milord.
He frowned. Did someone threaten you this night? I have given my word to the people of your clan. Not one of my men will cause your Gaels a single moment of hurt. They have been instructed not to lay a hand on your women unless invited. Is that not enough to suit you, milady Kellach?
Embarrassment confused her. Nae, nae. That's not what I meant. What I should have said is, I've been threatened so many times in my life, another threat makes little difference to me. One threat is the same as any other.
He tucked a warm hand under her chin. Nae, I think not.
Warmth suffused her body, made her uneasy…and she stepped back. He let go of her chin, but his hand roamed down her arm and up again. He drew her to him. Cupping the back of her head, he bent his mouth to hers, so slowly, she was barely aware of it. Her gasp and instantaneous response shocked her, but she couldn't draw away. When his mouth teased hers, she found herself leaning into his body, her breasts pressed tight against him.
His lips were soft on hers, lazy, undemanding, but when the kiss deepened, it created a wanting in her beyond anything she had ever known. Blood roared in her ears. Her breath shortened. What could she do but kiss him back, so she closed her eyes, intent upon savoring the sensations his mouth built in her.
He broke the kiss but kept his hands on her arms. He stared at her, his face shadowed and enigmatic. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pushed her damp hair behind her ears. Milady, you're wet. The coldness of the air will make you ill. Come. It's past time to return to the hall. The people within await you. Another day, we'll discuss our many disagreements, our discord, in privacy.
There is no privacy in the hall since your men took it over. She swallowed the bile that puddled in her throat and moved out of his grasp. The abrupt change from his warmth disturbed her, as if she was frozen from an invisible chilling blast.
He smiled. I intend to remedy that situation.
She paid no attention to his actual words. This is not the end of our discussions. We have many things to settle, I'm thinking. For my people.
Our people.
She ignored his comment and bent to gather the roots she'd left on the ground. Tossing some into the bowl, she let a few slip out. You'd best carry some. I'll come back with the bowl later and collect the last of them.
Nae, Mistress Kellach, I neither fetch nor carry. That's women's work.
Well, here's one woman who will neither fetch nor carry for you. If you want your men fed decent meals, their scrapes and bruises tended to, you'll carry some. Since I cannot carry them all, I will do for my own people first.
Her discordant notes hung in the air. With disregard, she tossed another bunch of roots on the ground and stared at him, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, she swished by him in her wet, torn and dirty tunic, her head held high.
Your men can wait until you feel more cooperative on their behalf.
He clasped her arm. He spun her around to face him. Do you think to shame me in front of my men? One kiss will not do it, milady. Perhaps another would help to soothe me. Now that I think of it, I'm sure a kiss would.
Just go away.
He grabbed her arm in a tight grip. She had no chance to move. His voice was deadly, with temper licking around the edges. Not on your life.
He didn't wait for a response but gathered her close. He pressed his lips to hers, his breath vigorous and surprisingly pleasant. His tongue skimmed the creases of her mouth and tickled over her lips.
Excitement and foreboding raced through her. The basket fell from her hands, its contents toppled to the ground. Her elbows pushed him away then her hands pulled his face back towards her. When he angled his lips over her, she followed his movement. Their kiss was hot, as if he'd blown fire into her mouth. Her breasts were crushed against him. She sucked in his scent. Sensations pooled in her stomach, making her ache with a longing never before experienced.
Aghast at her display of emotion, she thrust him away. Fear clawed up her throat, shredding her voice. Don't! You have no right to do this. What will my people think of me? Consorting with an enemy? I am shamed…
She turned and ran across the garden, leaving all behind her.
His mind played tricks on him. The girl had turned his head to thoughts better left alone. He couldn't allow her to become dominant and whip her people into a revolt. He must keep his control on this property. It was so rich in resources and would please Olaf. He couldn't falter. His twins came first. He needed to gain their release from Olaf, by fair means or foul. He needed to find his Gaelic sibling, even if it took forever. This woman couldn't be allowed to matter.
>
By noon, Kellach finished her usual morning's work in the garden and, passing the cooking area, she lifted her arm in a brief wave to the women working within. She wanted to reassure them but didn't stop. She realized her every movement was watched, so she headed directly for the fort, hoping to get away from the prying eyes of the Norse and the Badger.
In the dim interior, a messy disorder faced her, left by the conquerors who rushed out at dawn's first light to labor at their assigned tasks. Nevertheless, the fort's dark coolness comforted her after the heat and brilliance of the midday sun.
Her own bed was exactly the way she had left it. The screen Lunn had placed between their pallets for her protection was draped over the bottom of both beds, affording her a place to hide, a place to release the tension she felt over the constant scrutiny paid to her movements by Morfinn, Ronan and the Badger-not to mention Lunn who sought to protect her from everyone. With a single moan of anguish, she refused her pallet's rumpled security and moved closer to the circular pit of the hearth.
She stared down at black and gray ashes lining the area. The ebony pot left on an iron tripod above the hearth was crusted with the residue of the previous night's meal. The rancid smells of the leftover food intermingled with the sour smell of a long-dead fire. She staggered back. Such odors brought her nightmares to the forefront of her mind, so she backed further away, distressed, nauseous and fearful of stirring up those recurrences.
Each year, the men in her horrific dreams altered, grew larger, but none loomed as large as the Badger, who towered over her by a foot or more. The only things that hadn't changed in those visions were the black cloth over one eye, the mighty sword and long dagger, along with the unholy chase to the cliffs.
She had a nightmare recently, but it was different. For the first time, she dreamt she fell from the promontory wall to the rocks below to be carried away by the sea. So vivid were the scenes, she had been unable to make a sound. Now, she wondered if it had been a premonition of sorts?
Shouts and calls from outside the fort startled her, but she ignored them. Her head throbbed from the effect of the sun. Her mouth was sore. She rubbed a forefinger over her lips. They tingled, sensitive from the first sensual kiss she'd ever received. Strange sensations coursed through her, for which she chided herself.
The kiss had been used to flaunt the man's power over her. She understood that. Yet, the Badger's kisses were distinct, neither timid nor harsh, but searching and full of wonderment. Yes, they were different. An unusual yearning for something she'd never experienced made her body warm and dewy. Not comprehending her own emotions, she shivered, hoping to dispel her foolish feelings.
She gathered news of her affliction had reached across Gael, all the way to Dublin and the foreign factions. Such confusing thoughts agitated her. She tried thinking of more serious things, the Gaelic superstition over the banshees and little people, the legend facing An Dun Geata and her own Druid's curse.
She worried over the clan, with no leader like Iomar to rule them, no leader to admire, to look up to with dignity or respect. Never had she been so bereft of human contact, so cursed. Her subdued sobs echoed through the empty hall and roared in her ears. Tears coursed down her cheeks.
Suddenly, she squealed and moved from the hand placed on her shoulder. Nae. Nae. Don't touch me. Keep your hands to-
Hush, darlin'. Hush. 'Tis only Olwen. Olwen's arms reached around her and clasped her tight, just as she had when Kellach tried to follow her mother to the raider's ship from the next cove. Olwen's warm distended belly pressed against Kellach's back, her head nestled between the shoulders.
Oh God! You frightened me, so deep into my thoughts I was.
I know, love. I called out to you, softly. I didn't want you jumping with fright, but I sensed you'd be wanting me comforting. We've not been allowed to talk before.
Kellach turned around. How come now? Did he say you could come to me? He's kept me so isolated from everyone. I don't want you in trouble, what with your condition and all.
He didn't see me. I came up through the souterrains from the kitchen. So far, he pays no attention to the underground passageways. She chuckled.
I waited until everyone was busy with the rebuilding of the wall and or me father's hut, she said, wiping Kellach's cheek with her thumb. The women in the kitchen will protect me.
Olwen brushed back the hair that fell over onto Kellach's forehead and placed a kiss there. 'Twas cruel of the Badger to shame you into serving his men, in front of everyone. But our Gaels paid him no heed. Again she chortled. They've shown him the fist in private, they have.
They did that? For me? Since when have I been part...?
She raised her finger in admonishment. Always. They, too, have suffered over your Druid's fate. They've felt they should have protected you better from outside forces.
Olwen stopped for a moment, took a deep breath and held her stomach with both hands. Och, this babe. This wee one's a frisky fella'. Unlike my Toryn who lay like a lump, waitin' calmly for the day of his arrival. She chuckled to herself and cocked her head to one side. And of all the strange things you do not know, here's another. He apologized to one and all.
Who? Who apologized? About what? What are you...? Suddenly, Kellach knew who. He what?
The Badger. He apologized to our Gaels, saying that it were a mean and uncaring thing he did, to enslave them so. Beneath him, he said. But necessary for reasons he would not disclose.
Olwen put her hands behind her, braced her back and eased herself down onto the bench by the hearth. Her nose wrinkled with obvious distaste at the smell. Needs a good cleaning. What with Ronan and his men here for over a week and now the Norse...
How strange, Kellach said. How very strange!
What's strange?
Kellach sat down on the bench next to the smaller woman. What you said. Him apologizing to our people. Puzzled, she faced Olwen squarely. There is something strange about him, but I can't place it. Somehow, he seems familiar. The sound of his voice. It's as if I've known him before.
Aye. That's my feelin' about him, too. 'Tis but nonsense.
Do you think he's a banshee in disguise? Do you? asked Kellach, a tiny grin crinkling the edge of her mouth.
Nae. Never. He's much too large and sturdy. Olwen giggled then frowned. It's somethin' else, for sure. We've seen few men from the North Isles, except raiders. Could it be because this is the first raid that has no hint of blood letting.
Kellach shook her head in wonderment. Seems strange, indeed.
They came in the night, ye know. Into the huts. Silently. Suddenly. There was no way any of us could warn you. The men he sent into our homes held us at sword point 'til morn, but Toryn and I peered through a cut in the stone. Ye were up and about with Ole Lunn before the rest of us got near the yard.
Was he watching, when I stood by the walls with Lunn?
Aye, I'm sure. I noticed him from my little view. He lay hidden behind the stone tombs in the fields; up on the very top of the monolith. He must have seen ye climb the stairs of the fort. When you ran across the yard, he waited a bit, then climbed onto that huge horse of his before signaling to others coming up the road behind him.
I was upset by the damaged walls. I never noticed anybody. And of course, I blamed Ronan.
Aye. He probably had something to do with it. I don't trust him.
Nor do I, but… Kellach hesitated, clasping her hands together in her lap. I had the dream again. Different, though. I fell from the promontory wall. Over the edge. I could feel myself about to hit the rocks and roll into the sea, but I woke in time to save myself from screaming the fort awake.
Olwen's hand went to her mouth. Och, Kell, do you think it a portent of what is to come in the future? She inched away, her head tilted. Sure and it's your affliction following you. Have ye gained the sight, now?
Kellach chuckled, briefly. Och, Olwen, you've always had such a grand way to make me laugh, despite my troubles. No, 'tis not the sight, or the affliction, or anything I can name. I just woke myself up.
Grunting, Olwen pushed herself up from the bench. Well, your dream were no part of the Norseman's plan, I'm thinkin'. She started shoving the ashes around in the hearth with her foot. Well, we can't be sitting here, worrying over milk that's out of the buckets and already spilled to the ground. She eased herself down onto the shale floor, settled her bulky belly on her knees and began piling twigs and dried grasses from the nearby pile into the carved-out fire-hole.
Glad to have something constructive to do, Kellach reached for one of the lit blubber candles, off to the side. With a deft gesture, she lit the twigs. When they flamed sufficiently, the two women piled peat blocks of varying dimensions in an intersecting pattern shaped like a triangle. They caught.
The floor was rough. Kellach stood and drew Olwen up with her. Within moments, a huge fire blazed and lit the hall, making it almost as light as the outside. Sparks and smoke flew up and out tiny openings in the roof.
Having done something useful, Kellach's mood improved. Now I'll just sweep this debris onto the fire.
Olwen lowered herself to the bench again.
I'd better get to the problems of the day, Kellach said as she paced in front of Olwen. 'Tis lucky we are that we're all alive. I don't understand it but, for the moment, we're together, and breathing. Her head tipped to one side. But why? Such puzzlement makes me unsettled. Why hasn't he questioned me? I've no doubt he'll be up to more disruption.
Olwen crossed herself. Aye, lass. 'Tis like an angel from heaven itself was passing by. We're alive! We'll handle this day. And the next, and the one after that. You'll see. We'll act as if nothing has happened. And plan for later.
Kellach twisted the side of her tunic where it was torn, until another idea came to her. And while we're working so hard, I'll devise a way to get back at Morfinn and Ronan, if they had anything to do with this raid. If this capture was an attempt to control me, they'll have to reconsider. I'll not have it. Before I marry again, under Morfinn's decree, I'll enter a Nunnery.
Olwen giggled again, but her grin disappeared quickly. Morfinn's too powerful. Sooner or later, you'll have to give in. If it's not Ronan you marry, it'll be someone else. Maybe one you dislike more. The Badger or one of his men…
Kellach raised a fist above her head, then said, I doubt it. Remember I'm cursed, afflicted. I'm a danger to any man who marries me…
Aye. But for all your marrying, you know little about men. The Badger. What might he do to you? How will you manage the nights, Kell?
Olwen was right. She knew little of men. How might the Badger threaten her? Might he try to take her spirit over, win her affections? What else could he do? Harm her? Force himself on her? She didn't care any more.
Tensions of the past few days built inside her. A wicked thought came into her head. Her face flushed. She smiled. The more she though about her idea, the bigger her smile grew.
She chuckled. Her chuckle increased, until a giddy laugh, clear and lilting, rang out through the hall. Still laughing, the release of tension doubled her over. Tears spurted from her eyes from her exhilaration.
Her words came out in spasms. He knows of…my reputation. 'Tis a dangerous one…for any man. I'll survive. If he acts up, if he touches me, if he even looks in my direction, I'll tell…I'll tell him…I'll tell him I'll marry him on the morrow…
Doubled over with nonsensical, fear-releasing and hysterical laughter, the two women barely heard the Badger summon them from the fort.
~*~
Outside in the yard, Bruic stood on a large, flat rock, which raised him far above the others. His arms were folded across his chest, his legs apart and his face an icy mask. He waited with his usual impatience.
Despite his annoyance over waiting, he was proud. The raid had been accomplished with no loss of life to either side, just as he had promised Kellach's mother, Alma, whom he had left at Waterford upon their arrival in Gael.
His warrior abilities kept him aware of what went on around him, but when he heard giggles coming from inside the fort, followed by peals of laughter, he couldn't believe his ears. His mouth opened.
Women! What did women have to laugh about? Weren't they upset over the capture? He didn't understand them. Never had.
Kellach was in the fort. He had watched her enter, alone. No one had entered since. He looked to Fergus, who shrugged. Had the lass played a trick on him? She must not be allowed to go her own way. She must acquiesce to his wishes.
He stepped from the rock and moved closer to the door of the fort. He bellowed, Ladies, show yourselves. You've been in there long enough. Now!
More mirth emanated from the open doorway before two women, arm in arm, came up the steps. Kellach and the one called Olwen. They staggered against one another, much like the drunken sailors he'd seen in the Dublin marketplace. Shiny tears flowed from their eyes, making furrows through the dust on their faces. Their hilarity trailed off much too slowly to please him. What devilment were they planning?
He looked them over carefully, making quick judgments. They were both attractive women, even Olwen, large with child. She seemed more settled to him, a trustworthy woman. Her devotion to her friend was obvious.
The red-haired minx was breathtaking. Her hair shone in the sun like a deep flame from a crackling fire. Her tall, slender body was graceful, curved like a woman's body should be. When she smiled, her teeth were straight and white.
He had more important things to consider, but his mind wandered for a brief moment in time. He almost succumbed to the delusion that she might favor him and mentally chastised himself.
Even from a distance, he saw her resemblance to her mother. Her figure was everything Alma's was, but Kellach was taller, more elegant. The mother had adjusted to her life as a captive, a slave, but the daughter would not do so as easily he surmised.
Alma had fallen in love with her captor, Bruic's master, and borne him several children. For years, she fretted, sensing that her daughter might never forgive her for leaving, even if she were able to return to Gael. Bruic doubted that Kellach's nature was similar to her mother's. She seemed much too feisty in his estimation. At the moment, her eyes sparkled and glinted a shiny green as she tried to control her chuckling. He wondered if she planned some hellishness, calculated to thwart him.
The slight tightness in his groin made him wary, uncomfortable. This was no time to let his desire run rampant! The safety of his two children, held hostage, was what mattered and, if his luck held out, he hoped to find the younger brother and sister he'd hidden from the Norse when he'd been taken as a slave. His plans for his kin assumed far more importance than a mere woman.
First, he must seek the release of the children from Olaf the White; but knowing the man as he did, he knew such a feat might present difficulties. Olaf would not want to lose Bruic's potency as a warrior, nor his intelligence at finding ports in every land they had conquered. As the captain of a Norse fleet of ships, Bruic's expertise was invaluable to Olaf, an aspect Bruic hated, for it kept him captive.
His thoughts and expression were grim as he watched the women who clung together at the steps of the fort. With a tip of his head in their direction, he addressed them, If you women would join the group. His hand gesture pointed to the Gaels standing in a circle, as if waiting for orders to move.
Kellach barely glanced at him. She let go of Olwen's arm and strolled to the corner wall of the fort, the very spot in which the Badger had placed her during the raid. Her body was straight as an iron rod, even when she leaned casually against the stones in defiance. A mocking smile trickled across her face.
The yellow-haired Olwen moved quickly and quietly to the other women. A little boy clasped her leg. The women surrounding her all began to whisper and poke at her, but she shook her head with alarming vehemence.
Bruic never took his eyes off Kellach. Did you not hear me, milady?
Aye. I heard. Her head came up an inch or so. Her chin shot forward, indicating her obvious antagonism. She refused to look at him.
Amused at her combative attitude, her strange desire to add her hostility to a situation already boiling over with contention, he smiled. Suddenly, the birds circling above screeched loudly, as if mocking them both. Bruic uncrossed his arms, placed his hands on his hips and stared at her. His jeering laugh soared across the yard.
She pushed herself upright, her body bent toward him, and her chin drawn up tight as a bow. Her eyes blazed. Her forefinger stabbed the air with force. Laugh all you want, Badger. Things seem easy now. Perhaps 'tis not how they'll be appearing on the morrow.
He turned his face away slightly. I am called Bruic. Only my men call me Badger, he tossed over his shoulder.
She cocked her head, smiling, taunting him. I shall call you what I will. Furthermore, I will not stand on the ground at your feet, nor grovel to the whims or dictates of an apparently demented man.
Bruic turned slowly back to look at her again. His voice deepened in a hoarse, chilling way. I believe you are threatening me. It will do you no good. My plans for you are made.
You may believe whatever you wish to believe. I, for one, do not care what your beliefs are. She turned away but whirled around to glare at him. What plans?
He smiled and ignored her. Let her worry for a bit.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. The purple clouds overhead had colored the sky a dark blue. The wind picked up and blew tight spirals of dust in the air. A storm was brewing, both in the sky and on the ground, Bruic thought. He almost looked forward to the upcoming confrontation.
Kellach stamped over to the rock where he stood, ready to address the people before him. What plans, I asked you? She scowled up into his face.
Her full lips formed a thin smile. Her body pressed forward. Her voice thickened to a soft, throaty purr. Those who overcome others, in battle or by subterfuge, think they have won. That is not always so. Allegiance to one's own kin is something stronger, I'll be wagering.
She bent one knee in a courtly bow, an imitation of his gesture to her on the day of the raid. She straightened slowly, tossing her long braid in defiance, turned and made her way back to the corner of the stone fort, where she again leaned against the building in a relaxed manner, a look of scorn apparent on her face.
She angered Bruic. Did she think to have the last word with her foolish attitude and posturing?
He lowered his voice another notch but called out in a voice meant for all to hear, Hereafter, I suggest you wait for my approval of your actions, or the consequences may be vast, far larger than you expect, milady. Your coy manners don't intrigue me.
Kellach's mouth opened wide. She shut her mouth, took several steps toward him. Coy? Coy? I am never coy. Quite the contrary. She stopped short and stood straight, mumbling, I am never coy.
He turned from her in disgust. Never is an inflexible word, my lady.
He would settle her down in the very near future he decided. He had never seen such rebelliousness in any conquered person, and he was not about to be challenged by a mere woman.
Pointing at Lunn, he ordered, Come here, man. I would have you see to your mistress. Perhaps you can reason with her over her unruly behavior.
Bruic heard the woman's overly loud, drawn-in breath and faced her, knowing she would try to get in the last word. A gleam of utter hatred reflected in her sea-green eyes. Her hips swayed slightly as she marched toward the stone on which he stood.
She pointed a finger at his face, then at herself. I am mistress here. Direct your orders to me, Badger. Those I think valid, I will follow. She pushed a rounded fist even closer. If they do not suit, I will disregard them. Do you understand?
Bruic held a reckless reply in check, but his anger was about to overwhelm him. Only too well, milady Kellach.
He took a deep breath. You are no longer mistress of any clan. You are a captive, my captive, a slave, my slave, and you will do as you are ordered like the rest of these people. Your fate and the fate of your clan are in my hands. Not even your over-king can help you, for he'll be leaving for his home in short order.
He stared down at her. To argue with this firebrand was the height of insanity. We will discuss this later.
There was much to be done to make this fortress safe, but he could not refuse the challenge she blatantly threw in his direction. He would deal with her uncalled-for behavior in the days to come. Slowly. Steadily. Surely.
His uncloaked gaze raked over her. Then speak to your people. I have advised them that it lies in their best interest to heed my words. I am master here now and am to be obeyed. If you think you must reinforce that, do so.
In a high temper, she glowered at him. Her face flushed a becoming pink color. Her scrutiny never left his face. Climbing on the rock, she pushed him away from it. Even with her on the rock, he towered over her. While she faced everyone, he stood next to her with apparent confidence, his arms relaxed across his chest, relieved to be released from further conversation with her.
People of An Dun Geata. Our lives are precious. I would have no harm come to any. Do what must be done. The time is not ripe for rebellion. The hardest battle for us, who struggle under this new regime, is to survive. Listen to these men but instruct them in our ways of doing things. Keep your eyes open. Notice everything. We will win out from this grave trouble. I guarantee it.
She looked up. Badger, tell your Norsemen what I said, in their own language.
Bruic's relief was short-lived. He wanted to smile at her offensive words and kiss her full lips until she begged him to stop. Instead, he merely answered her. My men are hand-picked. They understand the Gaelic. And speak it as well. Tomorrow, they will escort your over-king, his stepson and their clansmen home. My troops may not return quickly. They are to make friends with other Gaels on this coast.
Friends? Surely, you jest?
Nay, friends with the Gaels. We come not to harm your people or this island. We come as merchants with goods to offer. Some of these men have been in this country for as long as you have been alive, mistress.
Again, she taunted him with a sneer on her face. Inside, I am much older than my years. Most of the aging brought on by men, men like these, from the Northern Isles, she said, pointing to the guards on the periphery of the circle.
Of that, I have no doubt. For a brief moment, he was at a loss for how to handle this pig-headed woman.
He scanned the Gaels gathered together in a tight group. Their eyes were focused on him, as were the eyes of Morfinn and Ronan, who stood apart. Bruic ignored them deliberately. No one looked angry at his words to their queen, no man except Lunn.
Bruic wondered about that. Had they so little respect for their queen? Were they fearful of her and her Druid's curse? It was something he would consider in the future, but for now, the arrival of a possibly vicious storm about to hit forced him to continue with his directions.
He spoke softly, but there was a critical tone to his voice. I am master of this fort. By right of battle, bloodless, if you recall. You will take your orders from me. No one will be harmed. There is much work to be done here, so each of you Gaels will take one of my warriors into your homes. My men will live and work alongside you. A small troop of men will stay in the fort to guard the area. Queen Kellach will stay wherever I reside.
This is unheard of, Kellach shouted into his ear. A shadow of alarm touched her face. I will stay with Olwen. I will share the burdens of my people.
Aye, you'll share their burden. You will continue to care for the fort and whichever of my officers stay there. You will arrange the meals, tend to the cleanliness of the housing and be prepared to wait on our needs. That will be your major responsibility, and that only. He moved from the rock, closer to the folks attentive to his every word.
Kellach stayed on the rock to look down at him. While he stood next to her, the heat that emanated from his body had made her nervous. He was too big, too sure of himself, too masculine. She took a deep breath. Not even the sound of waves, crashing on the rocks below and fueled by strong winds of the upcoming storm, drowned the ringing lilt of her voice. Clean the fort and wait on yourselves. I no longer am mistress here. I will not be catering to men too lowly or slovenly to care for their own. Do your own dirty work, I'm thinking.
Do not worry. You are not mistress, but servant, to see to our pagan needs. Bruic paid no attention to the gasp from the Gaels. You will do what I suggest or...
Or what? she shouted at him. Or what? Are you threatening me now? She flashed him a look of disdain.
Bruic had not missed her flare of temper. He moved to her, speaking so low only she could hear him. He towered over her. Time will tell what I will do, he said with contempt, before turning to Fergus. Gather some men. Have them ready themselves to travel. The rest of my men, go wherever you spent the night. Help with the chores.
And who is going to guard the walls this night? asked Lunn, who had moved behind Kellach.
My men. In shifts, as they did the night before. Several will sleep, others will guard. They'll switch places. They'll arrange this.
Kellach gulped. She shook a fist at the Badger, wanting to spit at him. And the clan must tend to the needs of your men? Like slaves?
No. Only you. His large hand grasped her face but held it gently.
His touch upset her emotional balance. She puffed out her cheeks as if to speak. Bruic gave her a warning look and grabbed her wrist, pulling her so her face came close to his. She inhaled sharply at the contact. Surprisingly, his breath was warm, musky and sweet to the smell. She breathed in deep drafts and felt them race into her bloodstream.
A clap of thunder sounded in the distance. A streak of lightning bounced off the water below. The sky had grown dark in the west and the north. The storm rolled in from the ocean at a fast pace. The sound of the waves swelled louder each time they careened onto the rocks. Spray carried on the wind preceded the rain. The sea terns and puffins sounded an ear-splitting warning before heading to the walls to seek safety in its crevices.
A soft rain fell, cooling at first, and then it plummeted harder and harder, bathing the area in coolness. Standing with his face to the rain, Bruic took a deep breath. He wanted to stand there forever and absorb the essence of Gael, its wonderful, wild ocean winds that could sweep a man off his feet. He was reluctant to let the cleansing smell of the rain fade from his nostrils, nor the wonderful womanly smell of the dusty girl in front of him.
He motioned to the Gaelic people. Everyone, return to your homes, feed your animals, do your regular duties to this clan. Remain peaceful. My men will not condone any disobedience from you. When the rain stops, we'll begin to replace the rocks on the wall and rebuild your defenses. After, we will build enough structures to house everyone.
Bruic swung Kellach off the rock and set her on the ground. He still held her wrist. With a small push at her shoulder, he tried to move her toward the fort.
She gave a genuine exclamation of surprise, resisting his hand and trying to shrug it away. Stop it. I'll go in when I feel like it.
Ignoring her words, he lifted her into the circle of his arms and ran toward the fort entrance with her. Must you fight everything?
Put me down, you fool. I can walk. Again, he ignored her, sprinting forward, his steps gigantic.
What's the matter? Are you afraid of a wee bit of rain? she taunted him.
His voice was cold and exact, but he tempered his anger with amusement.
Nae. Only of women like you.
Chapter Five
>Everyone carried out specific assigned tasks, as did Kellach, but she was tired, tired of keeping the fort's hall clean and tired of sleeping there. The rowdy males set her nerves on end. She feared they'd do something, anything that might give Lunn cause to defend her honor-and perhaps lose his life as a result, but the Norse warriors admired his devotion to his queen. They also wondered how long the Badger would allow the man's close scrutiny to continue undeterred. Unknown to all but Fergus, they made secret bets on the length of time before the big man halted such action.
Nothing happened to Kellach. No one bothered her, not even the Gaels, much less the Badger or his men. In fact, most of the men seemed to avoid her. She wondered if the clan blamed her Druid's curse for the raid.
Each day, Kellach ground her teeth over progress being made on Iomar's hut. Her insistent vehemence over the rubble as a sacred shrine to the former clan king hadn't changed from the night she shouted the fact to the Badger. He had ignored her then, disregarded her feelings still and insisted on finishing the project.
She refused to speak with him although she spied on him, hopefully without notice. She had to give him credit. He remained true to his word that only Gaels would work on the project. Under the Gaelic Fergus' direction, and using a mixture of wood, stone and mud, they had restored the original days ago-but now seemed to be adding other rooms to the building.
This afternoon, clouds drooped low in the gray sky, thick with the promise of rain. The glum state of the weather matched the secret tension amongst the Gaels at what they perceived as their over-king's abandonment. On the other hand, Kellach, eager to see the last of Morfinn, Ronan and all their guards, left her chores to watch the noisy preparations. The yard filled with Morfinn's men, their Norse escorts and many horses. The men readied themselves for the trip, attaching supplies to the backs of their horses and filling up several carts with provisions.
Ronan approached Kellach for a final farewell. He attempted to give her an embrace, which would mark her as his, but she took several steps back to avoid his touch, not caring that his arms hung foolishly in front of him at her refusal. He smiled, his eyes bright with an anger he might have preferred to conceal.
He leaned toward her and said in a low voice, Remember your pledge. Gain the Badger's confidence and report his doings. He wheeled around, marched to his horse and mounted without looking back.
Two Norsemen took the lead. The remainder arrayed themselves at the sides and the back of the line of men. The Norse effectively sandwiched the Gaelic troop between them. Morfinn's guards surrounded and preceded him through what was left of the damaged walls. Before they were completely through the openings, Kellach focused her attention on the Dun Geata residents who stood about the yard in loose sets of two or three.
Several waved at their departing over-king, but most kept their eyes centered on the ground as if they were paying attention to their duties. Neither shouts of friendship or wishes for safe travels passed their lips. Instead, the men were sullen, the women fearful. All secretly watched the Badger who made rounds of the yard.
Once the last horse left the yard, the Badger approached Kellach, no doubt bent on some new project. He had an expectant look on his face. She ducked away and moved rapidly toward the fort. Grabbing a broom next to the door, she turned her back on him and swept the stone steps.
Mistress Kellach, a word with you.
Speak your mind Badger.
Bruic reached down, took her arm and turned her around. I prefer that you look at me when I speak and that you call me by my name, Bruic.
I do not care to look at you, Norseman. Plus, what you prefer and what you may get may be very different.
Aye, you look. I've noticed your teasing glances. He grinned.
Teasing glan…? Why, you outrageous, over-confident fool. I only look to see if you're going to stick a knife into me. Kellach pulled away from him and slapped at his arm.
Ignoring the slap, Bruic put his hand under her chin and moved her closer to him. You and Lunn are to pack your belongings.
Kellach gasped and drew back until the stout wooden door touched the back of her legs. She leaned against the wood. Are you forcing us to leave our home? Throwing us out?
Nae. I have made other accommodations for the two of you.
Shocked, she continued without really hearing what he said. You can't be doing this. This clan has been me home. I have no other place to go. She looked up at him imploringly. I cannot go to Morfinn. He will mate me with Ronan. I hate them both, anyway. Morfinn has been the cause of most of my grief, for years. He is not to be trusted. I won't go there. I won't. I'll run away. I swear to it. Leave me be. I'll find a place of me own to go to. I'll be a slave to another… I'll work in the fields. I'll…
Bruic covered his ears in protest. Do you always talk so much? So fast?
Ye, beast. Turn me out of my only home and then have the temerity…
Aye, I guess you do. He shook his head. Just have your belongings packed by dusk. He glared at her a moment then wheeled around. Signaling to some of the Gaels, he moved to the furthest walls, half way down the road and away from the yard.
Heaviness went straight to Kellach's heart and stabbed her. She flopped down on a stair. To be turned away from her home. By a lout of a man, an enemy. He wouldn't send her to Morfinn, would he?
Her nerves frayed, Kellach jumped up and went in search of Lunn or Olwen. Perhaps, they knew the Badger's plans. She sped across the yard to the inner fence where Lunn had a crew of men working.
Her breath caught in her throat. Lunn. Lunn. I must talk with ye.
Lunn leaped over the pile of stone ready to be placed on the wall. Standing at her side, he asked, What's the matter, Kell? Ye're out of your breath. Are you ill, child?
Och, Lunn. What am I to do? She leaned against the older man and pressed her face into his broad shoulder.
Kell, he purred, patting her back softly. Kellach, has anyone touched ye? Hurt ye, child? Answer me.
She glanced at him, her eyes filling with unshed tears. Nae. No one has hurt me. Why would you be asking that? I don't understand what's happening here. No one has touched me. Why, most folks in the clan don't even speak to me, except you and Olwen.
Do you know the cause, child?
Kellach puzzled over his words. Could it be the druid's curse, a part of the evil that follows me?
No evil follows ye, lass. I've been telling ye that for years. Ye've had misfortune in yer life, but fighting against it so hard won't help. The people don't want you to see they worry about ye. I've heard their talk. They want a Gaelic king to rule them, not a young woman mired in such unhappiness. But you knew that already.
They wish me to marry? When they know the death that follows?
Aye, they feel that if ye'd married Ronan months ago, this conquering would not have been heaped upon them.
But I don't care for him. He's a brute. His liberties disgust me. And he's Morfinn's choice, the choice of a man I despise. I despise them both. How could I manage a life with him?
Lunn stopped and stared. The lad loves ye, missy, even if ye're no' aware of it. He just can't seem to express himself in a proper manner.
He turned to those still working on the wall. Men, we're finished with this section. Go to yer homes. Take care of the livestock. Eat and drink for yer health. And ye'll be giving me regards to yer wives and children.
The men began to walk away from the fence. Each one nodded to Kellach as he passed. Within minutes, they had crossed the fields, driven the cattle closer to home and entered their huts.
Come, Kell. Let us go to the fort. You can tell me there what upsets ye so.
Aye. We must pack our things. The Badger is turning us out.
Lunn gave out a roar of laughter. Do you think he means to be turning you out into the wilderness? On yer own? Nae, child. He just wants to make other provisions for ye. Maybe to Olwen's. Ye'd like that.
Kellach laughed and clapped her hands together. She hopped in a little dance around Lunn. I understand. He's finally agreed to my living with Olwen. I just know it. I didn't realize he could be so kind. It will be like old times with her at my side. I feel better already. Her bubbling laugh rolled to be carried on the wind.
Aye. That's the way to be looking at things. With delight and anticipation. You can't keep living in the fort itself. With all those men around ye. Something bad will happen if it continues. I've seen them staring at ye. 'Tis a good thing ye're moving on, lassie. Come, let's hurry. We'll pack together.
The two broke into a run. They rushed through the open door of the fort, leaped over the stairs and landed square on the stone flooring of the hall. Both laughed, went to their pallets and placed their meager belongings into linen sacks. By the time they finished, darkness had descended and the Norsemen were returning to the fort.
~*~
Kellach hoisted her lightest pack onto her shoulder and stared up at the Badger. I'm packed. All the men have been fed. Everything is clean and set for the morrow when I'll return to me duties. She smiled. May I go to Olwen's now?
To Olwen's? Nae, lass, he answered, a puzzled frown on his face. You won't be going to Olwen's. You'll reside in a much bigger, better place.
'Tis no better place. I have stayed there before. Each time Iomar married, Olwen and I shared quarters. I know her house is small, but we have managed before. I prefer to go there. But thank you, Bruic. Did I say it right?
You do talk a lot, he said, shaking his head from side to side in amusement. He turned away and pointed at several of the men.
Two young Norsemen came forward. Lunn followed closely behind them. Escort Lunn to Milady Olwen's house. He will abide there until I make other arrangements.
I'll be going with Lunn. We can all fit into Olwen's house. Kellach moved closer to Lunn and whispered behind her hand. Be careful. Do not fall into a trap.
Aye, milady. Do not worry about Old Lunn. All will be well, I assure ye. You just take care of yerself. He nodded to the Badger. Tarry easy with her, lad, he said as he went out the door.
What do you mean by that? Kellach called after him. She stood straighter and looked around the hall. I don't understand. What does this all mean?
Valdi. Bruic gestured to a medium-sized, wiry Norseman, standing in the shadows of the hall.
The man, dressed neatly in saffron shirt and short leather outer garment, moved forward. Kellach noticed the curious emblem depicting a Norse ship sewn onto his shirt. He walked languidly but stood before the Badger at full attention.
Yea, Badger?
Valdi, escort the lady to my new quarters. Make sure her pallet is prepared as I directed. She and I have many things to discuss, not the least of which is her duty to her conqueror. He smiled broadly at the Norsemen, who smiled back just as broadly.
The more Valdi moved toward her, the more she backed up. Milady, he said kindly, you have to obey or…
Or what? What do you mean? Kellach continued her backward movement until she felt the stones of the wall behind her. Her left arm and hand protruded in front of her body, her fingers spread wide.
Or I will tie you. I believe I will, anyway. I do not feel like struggling with anyone tonight. Building a wall is hard work. I am unused to such work and my muscles have tired mightily. Valdi kept his steady pace toward her and pulled some short cords from under his leather garment. He marched right up to her, grabbed her wrist, twisted it in back of her and swung her around to latch onto the other one.
Stop, you fool. Kellach struggled, unable to get him to release her arms before they were tightly tied. She looked at Bruic. Badger, I will not be carted off as if I were a sheep going to market. Make him untie me, she ordered.
Bruic stared down at her. Then agree to walk like the lady you're supposed to be. Or I will carry you, which is a fine idea, he said, taking a step toward her and leering. I do not intend to let you out of my sight, little lassie. I'm fearful of the deeds you might do, the possible sly deeds you might have conjured up with Morfinn.
She wheeled around to Valdi. Untie me, you clod. Then she turned back to Bruic. Untie me. I will not be tumbled about like an untamed animal.
In one stride, Bruic stood at her side. He drew his knife and slit the laces around Kellach's wrists. There. And just so we understand each other, you, madam, are my servant, and I expect you to behave like an obedient one.
Kellach lowered her gaze to the floor and slid down the wall, sitting in an unladylike position with legs splayed. She rubbed her wrists. She had never been trussed like that in her life. Shocked at the unnatural sensation, she answered meekly. Aye, milord.
She was too tired to fight any longer. She would bide her time, put him at his ease and do what she knew needed to be done, as Morfinn had insisted. She was long past listening to the dictates of this man, or any other, for that matter.
Like a good servant, she picked up her sack, stood and followed the Badger to the steps. Coming through the open entrance into the yard, Kellach was surprised to see all her people gathered in the yard or standing about outside their huts.
Bruic shouted to them, brusquely. Listen carefully and heed my words. This fort and all its lands are now mine. I expect obedience from my subjects, this woman and all of you.
Stop threatening them, Kellach whispered in back of him.
He tipped his head toward her. Nae, lass. They must hear my words and hear them well, if I must say them a thousand times. I do not make idle threats, he mentioned quietly, before raising his voice again to address the people. As always, the timbre of his voice held everyone spellbound. You are all to remain here, at the fort or in your homes, until morning, when we shall resume our discourse of a week ago.
What discourse? Kellach poked him in the back with her forefinger.
Hush. He pulled her around to stand by his side. No one, and I mean no one, is to leave this land for any purpose. You've all been given tasks in the past week and you have done them well. When I meet you again, at dawn, I expect that you'll listen with care to my pronouncements, for I have several more.
Ye talk too much, she spit at him.
Without another word, he gathered her in his arms and tossed her over his shoulder, onto her stomach. She kicked out at him until he grasped her legs in one large arm and held them against his body. He reached back, picked up her belongings and moved further into the yard, bouncing her with every step.
By the time he crossed the yard to the stone edifice that had been Iomar's, her people had disappeared back into their homes. No one was there to help her and she was faced with a situation for which she was not prepared. Kellach became sick to her stomach, a condition exacerbated by the Badger's shoulder pushing into her belly.
Valdi guarded the door to Iomar's former home. He made a mock bow to the Badger, hastened to push the door and gestured them in. The heavy door squealed slightly as it slammed against the inside wall. Valdi smiled, shrugged and moved out of their way.
Desperate, Kellach tried to maintain her dignity in case anyone watched from a distance. Her body trembled from the feel of the Badger's warm fingers on her leg. She peeped under his arm into the front room, which was devoid of any accoutrements, stark but clean. But she knew, how well she knew, that the little people hid, somewhere, ready to attack her.
Struggling to preserve her composure, she pushed against the Badger's back, hoping to fall to the floor so she could crawl out of this frightening hut. No, please. No.
Every memory she had of these quarters was bad, since the day Lunn brought her here from the beach, after her mother was taken away. Please. No. She hated the squeaky sound of her voice.
The Badger paid no attention to her squeals of displeasure. Aye, lassie. It's to be our chamber. It is where you'll abide for a time. Unless I decide something else must be done with you.
No, please. I can't go in there, she shrieked, her words muffled in the swell of his back. She pointed to the door on the opposite side of the front room. It's Iomar's chamber. I can't go in there.
The Badger's hold on her loosened enough so she was able to kick him. Her booted foot landed on his thigh. She heard him groan and wanted to smile.
Kick me again and I'll lash you 'til you bleed. You're acting the child, not a woman full-grown.
I can't be staying in this room. I hate it. Everything bad happens here. I can't stay, I'm telling ye true.
But stay you will. Bruic closed the door and barred it with a huge slab of timber slipped between two bent iron hooks fastened to the wood. Kellach sensed he heard the panic in her voice and would wonder at it. Well, woman, do you intend to do yourself harm here? Where there's nothing to hurt you?
She gave a quick negative shake of her head. Her mind whirled in memories. The beach massacre…the first few days without her mother…her own cries in the night…
Her most potent memory of this house centered on the wild, haunting nightmares that began the very night Lunn and the rest of the men returned from their hunt to find the fort in smoldering ruins. Lunn had searched and found the two little girls, Kellach and Olwen, on the beach, wrapped in each other's arms, sobbing in their sleep. He woke them gently and listened to their disjointed story. Then he enclosed them in his mammoth cape and brought them to Olwen's mother, to this very chamber.
Although Olwen's mother tried to console Kellach, all she could manage was to keep the child warm and fed. For months on end, Olwen and her mother kept the youngster close to them. Just as Kellach began to surface from her traumatic experience, the woman died and left another hole in Kellach's fractured emotional well being.
A huge fire blazed somewhere in the inner chamber, heating both rooms to a cloying warmth. Just being in the hut produced a fear Kellach was unable to control. She looked about the room, moving backward toward the door. Her breath came in short gasps. Her throat closed.
Strangling, drowning in her own recollections, hoarse sounds flew from her mouth. She heard the noises squeaking from her mouth but could not stop their garbled progress. I mus… leave…here. I…cannot… I don't…
She shuddered in dismay and turned to leave. A heavy wood bar across the door barred her exit. She propelled her body around, her hand to her neck, and leaned against the door, her breath catching in her throat. Tremors started in her mind and filled her body. Moans came from her mouth in ragged bursts.
Kellach raised her hands, palms up, to the man standing in the middle of the room, watching, staring through narrowed eyes. She remembered raising her hands to Iomar in this same room, many times, whenever he insisted she obey Morfinn's directives of marriage.
Iomar could no longer help her. From the day of their wedding ceremony, when her left to fight the Danes in Dublin, to his subsequent death, she had never stepped a foot into this room. She was happy when the clan demolished it.
Kellach shook her head to dislodge the memories that threatened to overcome her and took a deep breath. She looked at the man in front of her. His puzzled look shocked her into a momentary stillness. Her hands stuck out from her waist in supplication, and she pulled them back to her sides in embarrassment.
She drew herself up, glared at the Badger and hissed through barred teeth, What are you staring at? Do I seem diseased to you?
Nae. Just dirty and ill-kempt.
What did you expect, milord? Some fancy woman scented and gowned for your pleasure? Waiting to fall into your open arms?
Yea, that would be nice. He stared at her, the narrow patch over his eye askew, showing the reddened scar beneath it.
She wanted to tear the patch off his face. I have no time for pretties. I have been protecting a clan. Fighting an internal war, a Gaelic war, you fool. I have no time for the beautifying and glorious practices of womanhood.
Perhaps you should. Is it your intention to run about in your most slovenly outfit, looking for all the world like a queen in slattern's clothing?
When this tunic falls from my back, I will wear the homespun garments of my people. I will be garbed as a servant, a slavey, milord master.
The Badger stood there, relaxed, his hands across his chest, his legs splayed, the very picture of dominant male. Aye. I forget. You're my servant.
He took her arm and shoved her into one of the three inner chambers. He pointed to the huge bed set on gigantic logs strapped together. It was covered with many rich-looking furs. Well, then, straighten out my bed. And those covers on it look a mite dusty. Perhaps, it's fitting that you shake them out.
The furs were clean and well scented. Kellach mocked him. Aye, milord, Badger. I will be your servant, your slavey, as the price of losing this battle-which is not yet finished, I'm thinking. She hesitated. Providing the loss doesn't include sleeping in your bed. Kellach wondered why she said that. What made her put that idea in his head?
>You've not been invited, lass. Besides, as you so aptly put it, you're certainly not in the glory of your womanhood.
His remark smarted. She ignored it and dragged the covers from his bed to the floor, stepping on them in the process. She gathered them together, struggled to the strange openings made in the walls to shake them-but stopped. Openings? There had never been any in the stone houses, nor in the hall. She turned to mention it and a rug fell over her head. She tripped, falling to the floor in a heap.
You forgot one.
Angry, Kellach threw the furs off, one by one, until they were scattered about the floor. That was not necessary.
Aye, it was. How else will you learn to do things right?
A little boy's grin spread across his face, and the fury of her reply held. Taking two furs at a time, she slowed her pace to those of a doddering old woman, deliberate and small. She stepped on the other furs and ground them into the dirt floor. Once brought to the largest opening, she shook them without strength in her swing. Returning to the bed with slow and tiny steps, she placed the furs neatly in ragged piles at the foot of the coarse mattress, filled with feathers.
Kellach could not keep up this foolishness. Her teeth clenched in rancor, she picked up the rest from the floor, marched to the opening and shook them out as slowly as she could, letting one fall to the ground.
The Badger ambled over and looked out. You've dropped yours. Into a muddy spot, it seems. Well, you can get it in the morning. I hope you won't be too chilled tonight. He gave her a sweet smile. You've had an emotional day. It's best to take your rest now.
Kellach coughed in surprise. He had the gall to treat her horror of coming into these rooms in such a callused manner.
He laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder. Come, lass. Sleep will repair many things.
I will sleep on me own pallet, thank you. Just as you directed when you arrived at this fort. Where might it be?
The Badger yawned and stretched. In back of you. By the door. Drag it over toward the bed.
'Tis fine where it is. It needn't be moved.
Yea, it does. I have been deprived of sleep for several days. Tonight I intend to sleep like a babe. To do so, I must tie you to one of the bed logs, so that my sleep not be disturbed.
Tie me? Kellach snorted derisively. Are you afraid of me, milord Norse Badger?
Nae. Just cautious. And if you intend to sneer at me in that fashion, you had best refer to me as milord Bruic. That is my name. That way, I will know for sure you are sneering at me.
Bruic's a Gaelic name. How did you take it for your own?
Let's say it was given to me.
Kellach turned from him in disgust, ran across the room to the door and grabbed her pallet. It was heavier than she expected and knocked her to the floor. Could you no' help me with the bed?
Bruic put a hand to his mouth and yawned behind it. You seem to be doing just fine. You could do with a little more muscle. Perhaps more exercise in your duties might help.
Kellach glared at him, open-mouthed. Refusing to give in, and expelling a huge groan, she lifted the pallet over her head. She stomped across the room with it and tossed it on the floor at the foot of the huge bed but as far away from him as she could.
Sighing in displeasure at his unwillingness to help, yet in satisfaction that she had managed by herself, she flopped onto the surprisingly soft, feathered mattress fastened to the pallet with short cords. In a singular motion, she nipped a fur coverlet from the bed, cast it over her and rolled beneath it.
Och, are you ready to sleep? I thought we'd talk about the behavior you expect from me. Didn't you express certain opinions of my crassness and inability to understand you or your clan?
Another time. I'm too tired right now. Kellach said, snuggling further into the fur cover.
A hand grasped one of her legs, pulled it from beneath the fur and fastened a thick rope around it. Startled, she sat up. Once she saw what he had done, she couldn't resist speaking her thoughts, hoping to nettle him. If you're going to use just a wee rope, I suggest that you make sure I have no knife on my person. No sooner than the sentence was out of her mouth, she realized her mistake and the imprudence of saying the words aloud.
'Twill be my pleasure. He bent, stood her on her feet. She was tipsy. One leg held fast by a cord. With a quickness of motion, he ran his hand over all parts of her body, touching her here, pressing there.
Her body responded to the searching forays. She trembled with indignity, yet pleasure at the sensation evoked by his hands on her. When his hands touched certain intimate parts of her body, she froze. Keep yer nasty hands off me, milord Badger. That is, if you intend to greet another morn.
Bruic frowned at her. You have no knife, lass. And you well knew. Are you bent on challenging me? Over every little thing? You'll not win. I have no time for dalliance. I have a job to do for my king, Olaf the White. I will do it properly, despite you or your people. I have far too much to lose if I don't.
Kellach wanted to slap his arrogant face, rip the hated patch from his eye. Instead, she dropped back down on her pallet and hiked the fur blanket up over her head. From a slight tear in the top of the fur, she watched him remove his vest and fling it neatly onto an iron hook near the head of his gigantic bed.
He removed his soft-gray chainse made of lightweight, woven wool. His upper body was bare. Seemingly relaxed, he strolled to the set of hooks and placed the garment on one of them. Kellach grew surprisingly warm at the sight of his naked chest. Never had she seen such a well-built male.
Although scarred from obvious battle wounds, his body was magnificent; tall, lean yet heavily muscled. The top of his head nearly reached the rafters that crossed the room. When he yawned loudly and stretched, his hands touched them. Each time he moved, his shoulders knotted and spread in a sensuous fashion.
Disappointment mounted in her when he sat on the bed. It made him more difficult to watch without his knowing. He removed his boots and dropped them to the floor, then the leather bindings around his chausses. He stood, chausses clinging to his long muscular legs. He untied them, let them slip down around his ankles and stepped out of them, leaving them on the floor.
He was fully bare and fully erect. Kellach's breath caught in her throat. She breathed in shallow gulps and drew the cover farther over her head. She pressed it to her eyelids-but kept one eye open to the tear. Never had she been able to study a man like this, naked, aroused. Stuffing a fistful of fur into her mouth, she managed to muffle the sound that escaped her lips.
Have you finished your examination? he asked softly.
Unable to answer his question, she held her breath, embarrassed over she spying on this man, this Norseman, this enemy. Although she would no longer look at him, she heard his footsteps coming closer. She gathered her strength, ready to fight him off if he so much as touched her.
The weight of another fur being thrown over her surprised her. She heard him yawn. The big bed moved on its log rolls. The Badger must have swung his large body on top of it. Kellach heard the sound of furs being shaken. Another yawn followed. Within seconds, soft snores came from the bed.
Kellach threw off some of her fur coverings. She peered into the now darkened room, lit only by coals from the fire, and bent to undo the knotted rope. No matter how hard she tried to get her fingernails between the thick cords, she could not; they were too tight. She sank back onto her pallet in defeat, pulled the covers back over her and tried to sleep, wondering what she could do to rid herself of this man, this Badger, Bruic. Shortly, in true exhaustion, she dozed off, listening to the steady sounds of the man's breathing.
Chapter Six
>The morning dawned bright but cool. A bit of dampness hung in the air. Kellach's spirit was at its lowest ebb since the raid. She hated to open her eyes. Thinking herself alone in the fort's hall, she snuggled back under the fur coverings, anxious to sneak more sleep.
A door opened with a slight squeak, not loud enough to stop her drowsy thoughts. The sound of leather boots padding across the floor alerted her to someone's presence. Which of the servants intended to disturb her rest?
A male voice murmured. Time to rise, lassie. You have to fill this house with comfort. It's dreary looking. And things need to be sorted out between us.
The voice was low, deep, comforting. Its soothing tone made her want to burrow back into sleep, to sink into the sound. But a silky exhalation pushed its way through her mouth and out through her pursed lips. She sighed.
A hand grasped her ankle and yanked.
Kellach sat up with a start. Her heartbeat pounded, pulsed in her throat. She looked around, bewildered. This place looked so simple and stark it was almost as if nobody lived here. She was in Iomar's house. Realization of the previous evening's events flooded her mind, and she drew back from the hand firmly holding her ankle. What are you doing? Let go of…
I'm untying you. Your entire clan is gathered at the fort as I requested. They're waiting to learn of their added obligations to their new lord. I managed to contain myself until the taste of your over-king left my palate, before I summoned the wherewithal to face the people of this clan. Now up, lass.
Kellach crept toward the bottom of the bed, clutching the fur to her chest, even though she was fully clothed. 'Tis sure I am you have your new orders all arranged in your wee brain.
Sarcasm so early in the morn. Fine, lassie. Don't bother yourself. Sleep the day away if you like. I will take care of Gaels and Norse alike. You can hear of my words from others. Of course, if the words are not to your liking…
Kellach tossed the fur from around her and leaped to her feet. You'll not be doing anything of the sort, for sure. Better not to risk anything he might say, which might unearth the Lord knew how many more problems. Enough troubles came through each and every door without inviting extra inside. I'll be going with you, to stand at your elbow and listen to the words of wisdom you spew at my clan.
The Badger loomed above her. Come then. You'll make sure my words suit you, no doubt. He stared down at her. But you'll not go that way. I brought a kirtle for you to cover yourself in a more proper fashion. At least, it's clean. Big enough and full enough to cover those clothes you have on you now.
Kellach took the clothes from his hand and flipped them to the floor. They're not my garments. I have others of my very own. I'll not wear another woman's clothing.
You're willing to place your clean clothes on a filthy body? He shrugged as if to deflect an impending collision. Suit yourself. I can't wait for you to bathe. I don't want to keep your Gaels in suspense any longer. They've been far more patient than I would have expected.
She looked up at him. There was something about the man that suggested excitement and adventure. He looked as if he belonged on the back of a horse or at the forefront of a Norse ship, waiting to head a raiding party. Today, he looked like a kindly pirate or a peasant king of a clan. The saffron-colored scarf he had donned in place of the usual black patch around his head, made him seem more benign. The look was an improvement. Her people would be less fearful of him. So would she.
Their eyes met and held. His very gaze distracted her. Something crackled between them, an awareness that made her edgy and self-conscious. She lowered her gaze. Suddenly, she couldn't look at him, remembering how she had studied his naked body the night before, knowing he was aware of it and had probably laughed at her. Today, his very presence confused and excited her.
If you don't wish to participate in the gathering, I'll take my leave, he said in resonant voice.
The depth of it reached a part of Kellach's mind and made her ache for something she didn't quite understand. Go ahead. I don't care to go with you. I'm sure I'll find my way.
Nae. I've changed my mind. Since you're the same as everyone in the clan now, I'd better wait for you. I would not wish to appear without my most personal of servants.
The note of amusement in his voice made her snappish. Of all the unmitigated gall!
Annoyed by his merriment and by his constant changes of mind, Kellach stomped to the bed, picked up the brown kirtle and pulled it over her head, not bothering to smooth it down. The material bunched in the back near her waist, exposing her dirty and torn tunic beneath it. There, I'm ready. Will this be suiting you, milord Norse Badger?
The Badger stared at her again and grinned. If it does you-to look so poorly, I mean.
She knew she was a mess. Her hair was tangled, her body and face unclean, but the fear of losing her independent nature made her act inappropriately. She stuck her nose in the air and tramped to the door of the bedchamber. She flung it open with a flourish and preceded him into the large entrance room.
The huge log sat in its iron pins and barred the door. With a grim smile on her face, she crossed the room to the wooden piece in a huff, grasped it in her two hands and tried to wrestle it off its holders. Her efforts produced no discernible movement. Putting her shoulder underneath the log, she pushed upward with all her might. It stuck, resting on her shoulder and holding her hostage.
The Badger's large hand snaked past her and lifted the log only an inch, allowing her to move backward, into him. She scooted forward into his hand on the log. He was beaming at her when she looked up in embarrassment. With a nod to her, he easily set the log in an upright position next to the door and swung the door in.
He nestled her closer to him so it wouldn't hit her. Warmth emanated from his body and filled her with a longing. She shivered. Bruic moved the log to brace it against the open door. A soft day greeted them.
Kellach tore out, anxious to get far away from him. The cool air refreshed her. Large puddles from the nighttime rain had accumulated on the path to the yard. She dodged them but crossed the yard more slowly than she had planned. What must her people think of her, staying the night in Iomar's house, alone with a Norseman? She looked up to see if they looked at her strangely and to check the situation in the yard.
Norsemen moved silent men, women and children into the hall at a steady pace until the yard was empty, devoid of any living souls except for the sea birds diving and cackling to one another. Kellach rushed toward the hall, her nerves on edge. Before she reached the stairs, Bruic caught up with her. He grasped her arm but nodded to her to go ahead. She moved quickly down the stairs and stopped at the bottom when his hand tightened on her arm,
The hall held more people than she'd ever seen there at any one time. Some were strangers that she had not seen before. She wondered about them but said nothing. Must be Morfinn's men, hiding from the Norse, she thought. Holding herself regally, she swept across the hall to a small dais fitted into the far end. Her usual chair stood against one wall. She headed for it. People moved aside to let her pass. Several smiled at her.
Bruic followed her, grabbed her wrist in a tight grip and moved in front of her. To take control of this first formal meeting with her people since the raid, he must make the first pronouncement. The rumbles in his stern voice carried through the hall and bounced back into the cavernous room. Lady of Dun Geata, you are no longer mistress of this castle. Your place is amongst your peers.
He hesitated, and then gestured to the crowded stone floor of the hall. Below. With the people of this clan.
Gasps resounded from the assemblage. The noise multiplied into an elongated groan. Kellach's face flushed in embarrassment, as if she could barely bear the pain he caused her. Did he intend to demean her? Bewildered and furious, she put her hand in front of her. Her chin quivered, but with as much grace as possible, she stepped off the platform.
Olwen stood in the forefront of Gaels squeezed into the hall. She extended her hand. Kellach clutched it tightly and forced herself to take a deep breath. Olwen frowned up at the tall Norseman and drew Kellach into an embrace. At the same time, she bent, pulled the back of the brown kirtle down over Kellach's regular garments and nodded.
Bruic looked down at a sea of hostile faces. The full measure of the clan's humanity stood before him, young and old, of many shapes, sizes and colorings. All were quiet, tense, except for the whispers of the women and the restless movement of the children. Bruic wondered what might be the best way to handle such proud, rebellious folks without incurring further wrath and rebellion. He needed to take charge, make them understand that he would brook no nonsense.
He stood and glared at them, keeping his visage stern, until an idea hit him. He moved to the edge of the platform. He had dressed in a tight, pale-tan tunic, topped by a bright vest, worn with deliberate purpose to make him seem less fearsome to the Gaelic contingent. The outfit was further softened by the saffron-colored cloth he had placed over his wounded eye to hide the red and ragged scar.
He understood how the depth and power of his voice often frightened people, but there was little he could do about it. Nevertheless, he spoke in a low voice that rumbled out like thunder from a seaside storm.
People of An Dun Geata, it's time to take up the business of the day. I am now lord and master of this clan, by right of a victory that caused no bloodshed to any of your people. I would have you treat me with the respect due me. I told you earlier that you could leave if you wished to do so. Now, I must add to that decree.
Those of you who wish to stay here are now my people. Those who leave this place must do so within the day. Leave this territory but take care never to lay arms against those that remain. An Dun Geata is my fort, our fort. And to those who remain, I pledge to defend each and every one of you against any intruders who seek to do this homeland an injustice.
A man shouted from the back of the hall. You're the intruder. Not us.
Bruic could not see who had called out. It didn't matter. He would have his way in all, regardless of Gaelic sentiment. He kept his voice soft but threatening.
I would not be here if you had declared fealty to Olaf and the Norse, but if you have chosen to rebel, even against your over-king, Morfinn. It is time for dissatisfied Gaels to go elsewhere. We'll have no more talk of rebellion here. There is much to be done to restore this clan, the nearby village and the farms to the glory they had under King Iomar the Archer.
He let the clan digest his sentiment and mention of their former king, before he gestured to them. Farmers of the fields, come forward.
Bruic waited until a large group of men had made their way through the throng to the front of the dais. When they stood before him and quieted, he began. All of you will continue farming, but closer to the fort. We will work together until your houses stand invincible against the weather and your fields are ready for next year's seed. For the privilege of rebuilding, you must devote ten hours a week to the rebuilding of the fort and its environs. And again, I must warn those of you who wish to leave, you'll find no place in Munster, or here, ever again.
Kellach spoke from the crowd. Stop threatening the people. They've been on this land all their days. You can see they dinna' wish to leave their homes. No one has left the hall.
Again, Bruic waited. When no one moved to the outside, he was pleased. The most significant hurdle was met.
Next, I need workers. Blacksmiths, stonemasons, carpenters, shepherds and a bard to teach us the legends belonging to this great place. Also, a woman knowledgeable with herbs, a cook and a motherly woman to care of those who are unattached. Anyone with specialized skills, gather to the right. Kitchen workers, house servants and villagers to the left.
The Gaels shifted about, looking at one another in bewilderment. Although seemingly uncomfortable, not one person had moved toward the door. Bruic smiled. Even in their muddled confusion, they were not eager to leave their homes. That in itself would tie them to the land. Together they would make the area prosper. The men milled about the room; then, as if by some divine understanding, the crowd slowly divided into groups of workers, some to the right, some to the left.
Farmers and shepherds, take your families to your homes. Stake all the livestock closer to the fort. Villagers, return to your homes to begin whatever repairs might be necessary there. I'll send men to help you. Until there is enough housing built close enough for protection, everyone without a home will live here on the grounds. Everything we have will be shared with all, children first.
The Badger selected certain people from the groups that crowded around him. He pointed and gestured. In less than an hour, everyone had a job to do except Kellach and Olwen, who had moved to the right, to the group with special skills.
Bruic saw them but pretended to be unaware. When he looked up, they stood in front of him. Och, the ladies of my clan. What may I do for you?
Olwen spoke first. I would have a job to do. I wish to work alongside our people. They deserve it.
Milady, will your natural state not hinder you from working? You are due to deliver your babe very soon, I would suspect.
Aye, the babe will come soon but, until it does, I would rather work with the people. Both my father and my husband would have said it was my place to stand with the clan in all.
It shall be as you wish. And you, Lady Kellach? What is it you would do?
I will do whatever I can. I am a healer of sorts. I can nurse those who fall to illness. I can train the horses…
A hearty, scornful laugh stopped her enumeration, but she ignored him, continuing, I can run your fort for you, Badger. Lunn, Olwen and I have been doing it for years. Iomar chose not to remarry for a long time. Olwen is better with the children than I am and 'tis obvious she must have an easy job. Her time is near. I would not be pleased to have her in the fields. I will do the heavy work in her stead.
Surprised at the words from Kellach's mouth, Bruic relented slightly. I would have you take care of the fort and my chambers. You may also care for the ill and see to Olwen. But you will remain my personal servant, sleep in my home and do my bidding.
Her teeth clenched tight at the back of her mouth; her lips spread thinly over them. It made it difficult for her to answer politely. Aye, milord Badger.
Olwen. May I call you that from now on?
Of course. 'Tis my name.
Olwen, it would please me if you were to call me Bruic. Badger is a name fastened to me in battle, a name I no longer care to use. If it pleases you, you will direct the cooking and tend the children. By winter, I wish the children to have lessons to read and write in the language of Gael. A monk must be brought from a nearby monastery to help with that and to conduct religious services. Such instruction will make the children more valuable if they venture out into the world beyond this place.
Olwen's face lit up, glowing with pleasure. It would be lovely. I have so wished in the secret recesses of me heart that they all could learn the stories of the bards. Their numbers, too. There is a small congregation of religious men a bit beyond the village. I'm sure they would help.
Bruic smiled back at her. Right you are. Valdi is good with numbers. He will help come winter. The clan will become so much more valuable when all are educated. We'll see what the next few months bring.
No longer able to contain herself, Kellach spit her words out. Is that what everything means to you? That a person becomes more valuable? They are not people to you, but things, to be traded and bartered!
Olwen tried to interrupt. I don't think…
'Tis not important to educate everyone. There's too much to be done around here as it is, without worrying the brains of all. Kellach's face grew redder and redder with each word she uttered.
Bruic's voice deepened. That's why we will educate the children first. During the winter when there is not so much for them to do. Some will enjoy it. Others won't. Some will want to be apprenticed, to learn new skills, to hear and tell the stories of greatness of their forefathers. Kellach, you can't stop the world from growing nor moving away from your control. Face things as they are.
Her face flushed, Kellach spoke through her clenched teeth. Her mouth barely moved with the words. Stop. I gave you no leave to address me by my rightful name.
I need no permission. Remember? You are my servant. Go clean my rooms. Mend my clothing. Prepare baths for me. I noticed a huge cauldron in the cooking shed. Have some of my men drag it to my house and set it up. I will show you how the Norse heat the water with stones and make it pleasurable to bathe. The Norse people like to bathe and do so with frequency.
The look of total disbelief on Kellach's face made him smile. But he quickly wiped the smile away with the back of his hand. I am going to tour the areas to see what needs to be done first. When I return, I will expect my bath to be drawn, clean clothes on my bed and a hot meal ready to be consumed. If you do not intend to indulge me in this, you can be tied again and confined to my chamber.
Your what? You expect me to… Kellach exploded. In a pig's eye.
Also, see that the fort is cleaned. Sweep. Send the women out for rushes or get them yourself. I think you need to exercise. You're filled with a bile that never lets you rest.
Bruic looked at the Gaels standing in one corner, waiting for him. But before he left the hall, he motioned Valdi to his side. He spoke in a low voice so that others could not hear him. Take one of the ships and any goods you can find to be bartered. I saw some useful bronze weapons lying about, also some intricate jewelry. Go to Dublin. Take as many men as you need for the ship. Find Elva and whoever is supposed to be caring for the children. Get news of Alma's youngest girl and my two boys. I need to know that they're still alive and well. The children must be kept safe.
Yea, Badger. I'll sail on the evening tide. I have several Norse friends in Dublin. They will help. They'll dig up all the information needed. I'll be back as swiftly as I can.
You're a good man, Valdi, Bruic said, patting him on the back and moving him to the doorway. Safe voyage! Go quickly, my friend.
Valdi rushed from the fort. Bruic turned back into the room. He ignored the only two women that remained and gathered the men waiting for him. With nods, gestures and indecipherable words, he escorted them out of the hall with him. Olwen followed in his footsteps but stood by the door to watch.
~*~
For days, the sheer drudgery of rebuilding An Dun Geata's inherent wealth in land and possessions took up everyone's time. The older boys of the clan helped by rolling huge rocks from the fields to the walls. Gael and Norse men, using a strange pulley system, struggled to raise cumbersome boulders needed to reconstruct the exterior walls higher than they had been before the raid. The work, sufficiently difficult, kept tempers in check and made people work as equals.
With an unusual camaraderie, the men banded together to pile slab upon slab of stone on top of the barricades left standing to make the fortress a safe haven for all. When the men finished a long section of the wall, the younger lads mixed seaweed, sand and dirt together to form packing and stuffed the resulting mixture into every available opening or crevice. When the wall's height slowed the boys' progress, making the top unreachable, someone dragged large rocks over for the youngsters to stand on. The slow, agonizing work dragged on, but each day the wall grew taller and sturdier.
Women, girls and younger children tended to the animals in the fields and the watching of the clan's wee ones. A few of the older widowed women helped with the cleaning of the fort's hall. Only married or widowed women worked inside the fort's cooking hut and acted as serving maids each evening in the hall. Those that waited on the Norsemen did so with the approval of their families and were supervised by Olwen, who was so large with child she could barely move.
Although they never went without a Norseman, clan fishermen roamed the seas for enough catch to feed the many more mouths that seemed to flood the area. The evening meals were cooked in large iron pots and carried through the inner door to the hall in time for the Norsemen's meal.
Despite the fact that everyone spoke the Gaelic, Bruic perceived hidden tension between the factions of Gael and Norse. They often avoided each other, going to different parts of the fortress compound when tempers grew harsh. With great suspicions, the Gael men watched their wives and daughters, waiting for the slightest improper behavior from the Norse. There was none, nor was there the usual singing or story telling that had occurred in the nights prior to the raid.
Kellach and Olwen pushed the tensions garnered by the raid out of their minds. As women had known for centuries, they understood they would have to live through this calamity. Each of them maintained a pleasant manner in dealing with the conquerors, including Bruic.
Kellach performed all the duties involved with her enforced servitude. The Badger's clothes were mended. His dinners were always ready, as was his nightly bath; but she managed to treat him with a deference she knew annoyed him. And she did nothing to make their hut more livable.
Regardless of what she did or didn't do, his gaze followed her at all times, even when she strolled about the grounds. She knew he sensed nothing unusual in her behavior, yet he kept her under close scrutiny, definite evidence that he didn't trust her. He no longer tied her to the bed rail at night nor locked the outside door. She had no place to go, but his constant presence in her life put an unwarranted strain on her, an unwelcome strain she didn't know how to fight.
~*~
The morning had bloomed bright and shiny. The weather was warm, gentle, caressing the skin with balmy ocean breezes. Kellach listened to the lilting voices of the Gaels as they marched up the steps to the yard. Of late, they spoke to the Badger, no, Bruic, as if he were a gift to them, instead of their conqueror. She didn't understand them, any more than she understood herself. Her anger. All the time, as if she was fighting something inside herself.
She tramped around the hall in frustration. Huge billows of dust and dirt flew up around her feet and coated the new tunic she had on. The smell of the roaring fire assailed her senses, bringing fears of her nightmares back. The very thought of those dreams made her stamp more, but the stamping only succeeded in making her feet sting inside her thin leather boots. Why was she angry all the time? More so with every passing day?
With a final stamp, she went toward the dais and vaulted onto it. She grabbed the chair that had been hers before she became a servant and threw it to the stone floor of the hall, smashing it into several pieces. She saw Olwen out of the corner of her eye. She wanted to wave, but she felt foolish, child-like over her display of bad temper.
Olwen continued to turn in whatever direction Kellach did as if she understood Kellach's temper and wanted to leave room for it. Are you finished, Kellach? Or do you wish to do more damage to what was formerly yours?
You, you rotten traitor. Kellach was upset by the expression on Olwen's face, an expression she didn't understand. She sneered at her friend. Och, that's what you are. A traitor… Dear, sweet Olwen, so agreeable, so demure, so willing to bow down to the Badger, to the Norsemen, to everyone. Does it not make you sick? >'Tis me large belly here what makes me sick, and sluggish. Besides, 'tis me nature not to fight battles there's no hope of winning. Olwen moved closer to the platform. What has yer anger accomplished? Nothing, other than to put the Badger…Bruic, on alert. He senses he can't trust ye. Yer temper flies about too often to suit.
Kellach sat on the wooden floor of the dais, her legs over the edge, toes touching the cold stone floor. Tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Och, Olwen, 'tis sorry I am. She wiped the tears of frustration with the edge of her tunic. I didn't mean the terrible things I spoke. Not to you. 'Tis upset, I am.
Olwen sat on the edge of the platform and gathered Kellach into her arms. I understand. I know the good of your heart, dear sister. I know. Perhaps, if you explain it to me once again, I'll even understand better. You might, too.
What am I to do? Let him take over me only home, the only place in the world where I feel safe? 'Tis deplorable.
Be yourself. The sweet, wonderful woman I've known since she were a wee babe. Stop fighting everything and every innocent soul. You can't get anywhere with your anger, I'm thinkin'. You must control it and not let it control you. Bruic will repair our home, probably for the better. Let him do it. 'Twill serve the people better if you do not appear to fight him.
What of the Gaelic cause? Of the rest of the clan? Those who may be secreted in the coves of the island? Or up in the mountains? I canna' desert them, just because they didn't stay. The very thought of such a deed made Kellach pale. Never would they forgive me. I'd be sent away again, forced into yet another marriage by Morfinn.
Olwen squeezed her hand tightly. Nae! I'm thinkin' that will not be happening. You're safe here, sister of my heart. You're safer here, with the Badger guarding you, than you've ever been before. Trust him. He seems a gentle man with the children and the women. I have this feeling about him. He'd be gentle with you as well, I'll wager, if you but give him a chance.
Kellach pushed her away. I think not. He forced me to sleep on the floor in your father's bedchamber. You know I always hated that room. Hated having to enter it. Everything I was ordered to do, every marriage I was forced into, was brought home to me in that very room.
The room by itself cannot hurt you. Only you can do that. Your thoughts and your dependence on what's gone before haunt you. Stop thinking about the past. Look to the future. And like it or not, the future of Gael lies with Olaf at the moment and those close to him. Our Gaels will overcome but it may take some time. Be wary, Kellach. Do not lose your sense of self, nor your intuition about possible danger to us all. But I would have you be smart about it. Be the man's friend. 'Twill be better for all.
Kellach looked at her. Did Olwen know of Morfinn's plans, of his threats? Och, Olwen. I will try. But I cannot just give up our home or our cause without doing something. I hate him. The Badger. Bruic. Whatever you choose to call him. I've been forced to behave in an unfitting manner.
Olwen stood and braced her hands against her back. Is that what's bothering you? His behavin' in an unfittin' manner? She groaned and sighed deeply. 'Tis almost me time. This babe pushes me belly hither and yon, struggling to be free of its confines. Like you somehow…
Olwen reached down, took Kellach's face in her hands and patted it gently. Och, you're such a beauty, men only want to be nice to you. And I, sweet sister, must rely on your good judgment in the near future, for this babe will take up much of my time. Can I trust you to stay calm, Kellach? No matter what happens?
Kellach stood and placed her arms around Olwen's plump body. Aye, you can trust me. But you must do me a favor.
Aye.
Come with me to the Badger's house for a time. I'll fix it up, but I don't want to stay inside by myself. I'll get it cleaned, prepare a cauldron for his bath and even sew more of his ripped clothing. Does that suit you, Olwen?
Olwen grinned. 'Tis a start, she said, smiling grandly and following Kellach out of the fort hall and up the steps to the outside.
~*~
It was long after dark when Bruic rushed into the stone house, dirty and sweaty from his day's labor. He stopped in his tracks. There were several benches and tables in the main room, covered with furs or cloth. Some of his clothing hung on iron hooks jammed between stones in the wall. Odd pieces of sturdy cloth hung over the openings on the side facing the yard and swayed in the cool breeze that filtered in from the ocean.
Bruic circled the room in bewilderment. Nothing was as he had left it in the morning. Was it a trap? What the hell has happened here? What is all this?
His senses on the alert, Bruic strung the log into the hitches made for it and crossed to the closed inner door. He let the door swing open slowly and took a step back into the main room, in case the lass tried to stab him as he entered. Nothing here seemed to be as he had left it. With his back to the doorframe, he eased his body into the opening.
Sitting on a bench in the bright, clean room, her hands folded in her lap, Kellach gazed at the small fire banked against an outside wall. Her eyes were barely open. She bent down, picked up a twig and threw it onto the hearth.
His intuition told him she was aware of his entrance into the house. That she refused to acknowledge him was the only unchanged thing in the room. His ire aroused, he stamped in. Kellach stood at his entrance and turned to look at him, a smile on her usually stern, angry face.
What have you done here? Without my permission?
I have done nothing but what you instructed me to do in the large hall, days ago. I have cleaned both this house and the hall, Kellach replied, her voice low and quiet for once. Although with all your warriors tramping through, the hall is again filthy, she said, with a bit more snap. It has taken most of the day. I had to send Olwen home to rest. I was unable to help in the fields, like the other beasts of burden.
With her last phrase, Bruic knew he was in for another unpleasant evening.
Chapter Seven
>Although Bruic didn't want to get far from the rebuilding effort, which would have the completion of the safety barricades in place, he decided to take a break from the tedious, backbreaking task to tend to chores he had neglected in the past. Because of the cultural dissimilarities, he had expected trouble to break out between the Norse and the Gael and was pleasantly surprised that they hadn't. He was totally unprepared for the perplexing adversity that would face him on this particular morning.
He stood outside the hut, soaking up the sun and watching the men on the walls. He spied Kellach through a small opening in the door. With straw tied into a bundle and wrapped onto the end of a thin tree limb, she swept the floor of their quarters with a robust energy he'd not seen from her in days. Her seemingly dutiful actions made him smile, so he went back to the work he was performing with renewed vigor.
His mail and leathers needed cleaning and oiling. His well-worn saddle hung from a long, wooden limb he'd jammed into a stone fissure. His reins were stretched over a shorter knob. With long, deep strokes, he cleaned the saddle with a woolen cloth before applying a dollop of oil to the leather seat.
While he rubbed the oil into the deepest creases of the saddle, he heard shouts and wailing coming from one of the distant fields. He saw several of the Gaels jump from the barricades where they had been working and run across the road toward their homes. Norse guards followed, their swords drawn and daggers at the ready.
In the distance, dust roiled high in the air as if many feet stirred it upwards. With quick strides, Bruic marched to the huge rock in the middle of the yard. He leaped upon it, shading his eyes from the sun. He could see little but remained where he was, his body tight with worry.
Elongated sounds of keening and moaning rent the air before he saw anything from his quick scan of the fields. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Kellach had come to the door of the hut. She, too, raised a hand to shade her eyes. The tautness of her body indicated her concern, but she didn't stray from the structure nor did she look in his direction.
Women came up the stairs from the hall. Others left the confines of the cooking hut. Olwen stepped out of the hall and pushed several of the women out of her way. She stood at the head of the body of women. They all stood motionless, rooted to the spot. Many had their tunics pulled up to their mouths. Others trembled noticeably. None gave voice to the wariness that made them fearful.
The dust cleared. A throng of Gaels stumbled and climbed over the low walls of the fields, shoving the animals from their path. Something serious had happened. Bruic motioned Kellach to his side without realizing it. She moved swiftly across the yard and touched his leg gently. He glanced down momentarily but kept his eyes focused on the procession moving, slowly but irrevocably, toward the yard.
Leaning on a tall staff, Lunn stalked the forefront of the large, ever-increasing crowd. More people poured from their huts and joined the group. The assemblage grew greater with every step as it passed the beehive huts. To each side of the Gaels, Norsemen, their weapons clearly visible, kept pace with the movement of the crowd but made no effort to control.
Behind Lunn, several men walked carrying a plank, but Lunn blocked Bruic's view so he couldn't see what the men bore. The women who accompanied the men were sobbing. Their tears, caught by the last rays of the fading sunlight that lit the yard, glistened on their faces. Sheathing their weapons with alacrity, many of the Norsemen fell to the back of the group and followed at a short distance across each field.
Bruic could tell by the steady pace of the crowd that something was terribly wrong. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood motionless, his legs spread, leaving him open to what he anticipated as a severe action on the part of the Gaels. Kellach nudged him over a bit, grabbed his arm and climbed on the rock beside him. Grateful for her presence, he touched her shoulder lightly and nodded to her to stay.
The thickly crowded group crossed the road and came closer. Now, Bruic could see clearly. A man lay spread-eagle on top of the plank. The woman who walked beside the body, her hand resting on the chest, shed no tears. Her face was a cold mask of sorrow, but her steps never faltered.
Bruic wanted to put an arm around Kellach so she wouldn't be frightened, but she turned and stared at him with a similar look filled with sorrow. He could feel hot fury burn into him from her body. As the group came into the yard, she stepped off the rock and rushed to stand beside Lunn, who spoke in a voice like an angry hiss.
Our countryman has been slain. And not by one of this clan. His throat has been slit from end to end. All his vapors were gone from his body before a priest could bless him. He was left to die alone. Only a heathen, a barbarian, would do such a thing.
Bruic did not answer. Kellach shouted up at him. Our people do not do this sort of thing. It's the murder of a man in his full figure of life.
Are you suggesting that a Norseman did this? Bruic asked quietly.
Kellach's face grew red with anger. Aye. 'Tis not the doing of a Gael, for sure. We are not barbarians, nor do we kill our own clansmen. 'Tis only men from the Northern Isles who have no feeling for the priest or the church that would…
No Norseman would bother to take a man in ambush. From what I can visualize by the cut on his throat, this man was taken from behind, Bruic answered in defense. He stood his ground without wavering.
Lunn's voice rang out over the yard. I'll tell you this, Badger, no Dun Geata man would be sneaking behind another working in the fields, trying to supply his family with food for the table, and kill. 'Tis not the actions of this clan.
Kellach spoke with force. It had to be a Norseman, I'm thinking. Who else is around this fortress? I'm thinking this is one of yours, Badger. One of your Norseman over whom you have no control. I'm telling you true. Kellach stamped her foot and moved to the woman who, with not a tear in her eyes, stood closest to the body. Don't worry, Bridie. You'll be taken care of, I promise you. There are none here who will let you and the wee ones suffer.
Angered over what he considered a false accusation, Bruic spoke loudly. I will take care of this. I will search out the culprit or culprits. It's my promise. I will find the one who did this. It will not be one of my men, I assure you.
From the fringes of the crowd, a lone Norseman stepped forward and marched to the rock. He faced Bruic. I live in their home. I was a friend to the man, the woman and to his children. I will take care of the family.
Kellach rushed to face the Norseman squarely. She lifted her chin in his direction. You'll not be staying there in her home. She has no man now to protect her from your barbarous ways. She's dazed and hurting. 'Tis indecent that you should suggest it-unless you had something to do with the death of our Padrik here.
From his position on the rock, Bruic surveyed the mass of folks in front of him. I have made my promise to you. I will find out who did this. And we'll start right here and now. He stared down at a Norseman whose shoulders were almost as broad as his own. The man stood at the foot of the rock, not too far from the Gael widow and looked at Bruic. Arne, did you have anything to do with this? If you did, speak now, for I will find out before the week is out.
Arne's face grew red, then gray. No, Badger. I've worked on the barricades with the others for days on end. I worked the fields with Padrik, and I've stayed in the hall at night when he and his woman needed their privacy.
Bruic glanced at Fergus, who had hurried to Bruic's side at the first sign of trouble. Do you confirm, Fergus? He's been in your presence throughout?
Aye, Badger, it is as he claims.
Kellach raised her fist to Bruic. What are you expecting Fergus or the man to say? Do you expect either of them to admit any misdeed? Maybe he sneaked out of the hall of an evening, with malice and intent to harm the man who kindly housed him?
Arne looked at Kellach, his face drawn and pale. Nay, mistress. I would not do that. I do not sneak and skulk about. I left their home for the hall for a reason.
I don't doubt that for a minute, Kellach sneered. You wanted to harm our Padrik, make his wife and children suffer.
Nay, nay. Not for those reasons. Arne shuffled from one foot to another, trying to express himself.
Bruic intervened. Kellach, this is no concern of yours.
Oh, it's not, is it? By whose say so?
Bruic drew up and settled into his massive frame. Mine. You and I will discuss this later, in private.
Lunn said, Aye, 'tis better discussed in private. Ye're accomplishing naught by arguing here. Kellach raised her hand to him as if to stop his speaking out. Kell, stop. The man is dead. 'Tis not a thing you can be fixing.
But I can care for the widow and her children, Kellach said as she moved to the Bridie's side. She put her arms about the woman and whispered in her ear. We'll care for all of you. Be sure o' that. 'Tis my word.
Arne took a step forward, closer to the rock. If you will let me, Badger. I will take care of the family that lost their man. The weight of my wages will be brought to their home.
That's kind of you, Arne, but it is unnecessary, Bruic countered with a smile. The lady and her children will be cared for.
But it is my wish. I would marry the widow, if she'd have me. She is the reason I left that hut. I have begun to care for her but I would not disgrace her or Padrik. I would be happy to make her family my responsibility.
Kellach gasped and reached up to pull Bruic from the rock. You knew this. That's why you're not shocked at the circumstances. Of course, you Norsemen see things a different way than the Gaels do, for sure. We believe in mourning our dead before...
Lunn broke in, Kell, child, stop your blathering. 'Tis a generous offer this man makes.
Kellach rounded on Lunn. I can't believe it's you saying this. It's blasphemy to allow this barbarian to marry with one of our women.
Enough! Bruic's voice rose above the general clamor of the crowd. I will not have this disrespect for the widow. Bridie needs to bury her man and see to her children. The rest can come later.
But, Badger-
I have repeatedly asked you to call me by my name. I'm tired of your continual disobedience. You sound like a donkey with all your braying. Go to forward to your duties, lady. Now. His pointed finger indicated his hut.
Kellach's face reddened. She looked as if she intended to continue the argument. Bruic pointed again and gave her a small push in the direction.
Red-faced, Kellach wheeled on her heels and marched to the hut. Her muttering could be heard along with the stamping of her feet. She went into the building and slammed the door.
Her actions provoked an angry reaction in him, but he kept his face stern and immobile. He stared at everyone gathered in the yard. After a minute, in which his stare quelled them to silence, he spoke. This is what I want done. He stepped from the rock in order to get closer to the people. Fergus's sturdy body moved beside him in a protective way.
This group is to disperse. Go to your homes and prepare for the burial to come as quickly as possible. No one is to go near the field where you found the body. I want to examine that area for myself, along with Fergus, Lunn and your elders, if necessary.
He stepped forward and put his arm around the widow. Milady, anything you need, just ask it of me. I will grant your wishes. I know it's a hard task to consider at the present time, but you have many young children to be cared for, including the one hanging at your skirts. Do you care to marry again?
The woman shook her head in the affirmative. I know 'tis a terrible thing to say, with me husband's body laying here to waste in the sunlight, but I do not like to live on me own, without a man to share my bed. I'm givin' of spirit and me babes have need of a father.
Bruic asked quietly, Would you be willing to marry this Norseman, this Arne, who has offered for you?
Again, the woman, with tears finally rolling from her eyes and coursing over her cheeks, shook her head affirmatively. Aye, milord Badger. The man has been nothing but kind, kinder than- She stopped as if unable to go on. He's been most kind. To Padrik himself, to me, and all me babes.
Then it shall be done. Lunn, when we finish with our investigation into the matter and the man is ready for burial, send to the village and get the priest. This shall be done with all swiftness. Go, woman. Take your man home and prepare his body for his eternal rest. I'll send some of the women to help you. And prepare your children for what is to come. We'll talk again, before you marry. Go. All of you. Go back to your duties, until this is all sorted out.
Bruic turned and strode away from the crowd. Fergus remained at his back. I know you're there, old friend, but I must show the people my trust, so go back to the building of the walls. Bruic felt wind at his back when Fergus moved away and strolled off in the direction of the walls, gesturing to the group of men concerned with rebuilding the walls.
Bruic moved to the door of the hut but turned and took his saddle off the long post. He slung the reins around his neck and marched into the hut, kicking the door with his foot. He wanted to throw the saddle at Kellach and make her act like the servant she was. He couldn't believe that she still saw herself as queen of this clan. It was something he intended to set right immediately.
Kellach. Your master awaits. Be quick. I have a saddle that you must care for while I get my mail tunic from outside.
There was no response. Kellach, did you hear me?
Do it yourself, came the reply from the bedchamber.
Nay. You are to do it. Come in here. Do not make me come after you. You won't like the consequences.
I will not fall at your feet, Badger.
My name is Bruic, he said, striding into the bedchamber with an anger that almost overwhelmed him. He crashed through the closed door, moved to the girl, lifted her from her pallet and spun her around. Fine, perhaps this will be better. He reached and dragged her body into his. This way you will not fall.
Put me down, you oaf. Put me down.
Not until I have my way. His mouth settled on hers, but it was a kiss of anger not passion and he was totally aware of the difference.
Inexplicably, his mouth began to move on hers and his kiss became softer, more searching. When he felt her respond, he drew his lips away and set her back on her feet. He backed away from her, knowing full well the unexpected power of the kiss he had given her.
He felt like a foolish boy but he understood the ability of women to arouse. He couldn't let his feeling for this waif of a woman control him. He needed to go forward, to locate his children, free them and, hopefully, to find his siblings.
Milady, I have more important things to do than dally with you. Clean our hut. Cook for yourself alone. I will take my evening meal with the men in the hall. I do not know when I will return.
Go, you, you-
Don't say anything, lady. You need to learn your place and I intend to teach it to you. Go about your duties. Now! he roared at her.
He shook his head, trying to clear it of her retreating image, of her with her head bent and her face red with shame. He needed to find out who murdered Padrik before a rebellion took place and more lives were lost. Something was going on here that he didn't fully understand, but he had his ideas and would search out the cause.
~*~
Infuriated and ashamed at being summarily dismissed by Bruic, Kellach stamped through the two largest rooms of the hut until her booted feet were sore. She cursed the gods, the Norse, the banshees and the Dark Druids. She snatched the furs from Bruic's bed, threw them to the floor, then stamped on them until they crumpled underfoot and turned gray with dirt. She cursed more, hoping it would make her feel less upset.
Once the temper tantrum was over, she felt no better for it. The tension still had control of her body, making her shoulders stiff. As tears of release gathered in her eyes, she promised herself she would never behave so poorly again. Such actions had accomplished nothing.
Suddenly, she realized the foolishness of her tantrum-like behavior over the past weeks since the raid, and for years before that. Her temper should be controlled. What was she fighting? The Norse? The curse upon her? What?
Nothing seemed to have changed in the lives of her people. In fact, their lives were improved of late. The land was more secure, their homes warmer and more comfortable. They didn't seem to harbor the furious resentment she did.
Perhaps Morfinn was right. It was time for her to use her wiles to defeat the giants who had captured her clan. She couldn't allow Bruic, a stranger to Gael, to rule her clan.
Thinking of him, even for a moment, produced the same effect it always did. Her fingers traveled to her mouth and a shivery feeling in her lips wormed its way to her stomach. Forcibly, she moved her hands to her hips. Trying to calm herself, she strolled to a slit in the stone, put there to allow Bruic sight of the yard or the fort, and peered out.
She saw him on his black horse, leading a group of men toward the fields. In perfect synchronization, three horses leaped over the low fences. Kellach sighed and glanced up. The sky had darkened. Purple clouds swirled over the yard and flew past the fort to the ocean. The seabirds rode the winds and squawked their usual warning. A storm brewed in the east and closed in fast on Dun Geata.
Kellach hoped that it wouldn't rain until Bruic got to the spot where Padrik's throat was slashed. Perhaps Bruic would find something. But what, she wondered. And what consequence might come from what he found? She looked at the sky again. Now, in alarm, she prayed for the shower of heavy rain that usually followed storm clouds. Maybe it would be better if he didn't find anything at all.
Why worry about Bruic? She thought she had convinced him of her good intentions by doing personal things that might please him. His clothes were mended, his meals hot and ready. His rooms were warm and cozy, looking for all the world like the beehive huts of her people, and better than any Norse abode, if what she had heard of their culture was any example. What more did the man want?
Kellach looked down at the filthy furs and berated herself aloud. How stupid I am. He wants what Morfinn suggested I give him. But I can't.
She sighed again, feeling her eyes fill. She bent to pick up the furs she had thrown. They were covered in sand and dirt, so she gathered their edges and dragged them after her through both rooms and out the door, leaving tracks behind her.
She left most in a pile and put one on the post Bruic had used for his saddle. She reached inside the door for her broom and brushed the fur rug down on each side. Then, in one of her fits of pique, she swatted the rug with quick, hard strokes. Dust and dirt flew away in circles on the wind. Forgiving herself of her stupidity was the hardest lesson she needed to learn.
One by one, each fur was swept down and beaten until all were cleaned and fresh from the damp air. With her arms overloaded, she carted them back inside. She tossed them on the bed, spent the next few minutes folding them and straightened one across the bed. Before pulling it over on one side, she drew the fur to her nose where the clean, fresh smell of Bruic drifted into the air. Why am I doing this?
She dropped the fur as if it were a hot coal. The room had grown dark. She could hear the rain pelting the shale in the yard, with an extraordinary force, worst than the force of the emotions, which exhausted her. She felt like her entire life had been one mishap after another, from the day her mother left her until now. The very weight of life residing on her shoulders was more than she could bear. She flopped onto her pallet, which stood in exactly the same place since her first night in this hut.
Since she hadn't stamped on any of her own furs, they were clean, soft and comfortable. A known factor. She pulled them up around her shoulders and when she heard the thunder, the furs went up around her head and neck. She hummed a light song to herself and wrapped her mind in the warm remembered scent of her mother.
Her heavy eyelids, filled with moisture, sagged. Misty curls of sleep wove their way around her. In a matter of moments, she fell into a paralyzing stupor. Specters that had little to do with reality spun her in smaller and smaller circles, then whirled her into the deepest, blackest nightmare ever…fear followed her, breathed cold upon her spine. She beat it back to no avail. Small feral sounds rumbled in her throat.
~*~
No light made by God or man shone upon the rebuilt fort of An Dun Geata. It sat, silent and grim, atop a high promontory overlooking the Great Sea, its sturdy rock walls invisible in the midnight gloom.
Visitations from the dead not bold enough to accost her during daylight shuffled around her. Death stalked her. Her superstitious nature flooded with warring thoughts.
A wee banshee crouched on her shoulder, rubbing a chill into the edges of her muscles and whispering vague and nasty warnings at the threshold of her spirit. The banshee's hot breath engulfed her, and the look on his wizened face disgusted her. She tried to shrug him off, but his bony fingers bit into her skin.
Yet, despite his hushed warnings, Kellach continued on her endless search for her long-lost mother. Mama, Mama. Come. I need you, she called out, her voice, clear, ringing like that of a child frightened by the dark. Mama!
Her gaze flicked back and forth in an effort to fathom the blackness that closed in around her. Damp air wet her face. Unsure of her direction, she held one hand straight out to feel her way through the surrounding mist. Carefully, she let her right toe slide over a patch of rough shale. Tiny pebbles dug into the soles of her unclad feet.
Kellach cocked her head to one side. No sea-going birds screamed their calls. No soft waves lapped against the nearby beaches nor smashed against the rock walls of the cliffs, where Dun Geata stood. All that remained in her senses were the salty fumes from the ocean, biting, pungent.
>Her father had died before her birth, and she needed to find the woman who bore her. Then, and only then, would the Dark Druid's curse on her go away. That almost invisible man had laid waste to her life, insisted she never marry and sent Norsemen to steal her mother, forcing Kellach to live without proper parental protection.
Kellach licked her forefinger and lifted it above her head, alert to some danger, an unsettled atmosphere, in the unmoving air.
No wind blew. Odd. Wind always blew in from the sea.
An odd silence dominated the mist-laden air and softly encircled her. The skin on her neck prickled. Lack of breath pressed heavy in the hollow of her throat. She shivered and spread both her arms outward, reaching. Her hands groped hollow spaces in front of her. She turned, lost in the darkness of a dense, menacing fog and air so calm there was not a ripple.
Kellach stopped. A noise. The faint crush of stone against stone beat a tattoo in her ear. One crunch. Then another. Heavy footsteps scuffed the rocky soil. The steps hemmed in her space. Kellach clutched her chest with fingers splayed. She had wanted to hear sounds but now backed away from them. Her breathing labored until it became a hiss through her parted lips.
A shock jolted through her. In a flash of shiny, white light, a towering brute of a man rose before her, casting a dark shadow. One gigantic fist held a sword. A Norse shield crossed an expansive chest. A sharp dagger was clenched in the man's unnaturally white teeth and a large black cloth sloped over one eye of his battle-scarred face.
Kellach gasped but no sound rent the clammy air. She saw before her the Norse who had carried off her mother. Was he after her? One luminous, light-blue eye stared at her but flashed a blazing fire with violence in it, murder, mayhem. His upper lip curled. He grasped the handle of the dagger and jabbed it at her, threatening. Its sharp tip forced her to take more steps back.
With a snarl, low, deep in his throat, his words sailing to the sky, the Norseman chanted, Kellach. Kellach, warrior-maiden of old. You most wretched of women! I have you, caught in a whirlpool of your own making.
The feral chant broke off, replaced by a screeching tirade, the high-pitched whine of a raging wind. Hear me, young queen of Dun Geata! Cursed bride of Corca Dhuibhne! Listen well! You are damned-an affliction to men.
Nae, nae. Kellach shook her head so vehemently, her braids came undone. The copper brooch holding them sailed past the Norseman into the opaque shadows without a sound. Her heart raced. Her legs buckled with the weight of her fear.
The man crouched, ready to spring. Four husbands have you had! Four times you've devoured those joined to you. Each and every one. With quick vengeance. Now, you'll be mine, my warrior queen, my help-meet in Valhalla.
Never. I'll slay you first. The words rasped in her throat. She held her breath and reached back, to where she thought the fort should be.
Where was she? She inhaled sharply, and her sense of direction returned. The ocean's tangy odor smelled unusually strong and filled her nostrils. She was near the rock wall of the cliff. Her body turned frigid in desperation.
The warrior followed her at an angle, propelling her nearer to the sea wall and the rocky cliffs that faced the sea. Kellach spun around and ran as fast as she could, enveloped in a black chill. Pebbles flew beneath her feet. Shallow breaths slammed against her ribs. She had turned the wrong way.
She dug into her leather pouch for her dagger. Gone! erShe glanced over her shoulder. The beast of a Norseman moved at a steady pace.
Her thigh jammed into the hard rock wall that separated the promontory from the sea. She leaned against the wall, out of breath, shaken. She patted the wall's top with her fingers, searching for the loose rock that indicated the hidden stairway. If she climbed down she might manage to reach the caves below, where he'd never find her.
Unable to locate the stone, Kellach climbed atop the rocky wall. One wrong step would plunge her onto the rocks below. She scrambled upright, raising her arms on each side for balance. She sped along the jagged top of the wall, teetering precariously. Fragments of thin-edged shale cut her tender feet.
Nothing seemed to deter the monster Norseman. He marched after her, dark, heavy footstep after footstep. His mocking laughter split the silence. One contact with you, cursed bride... They die... Just as you're going to die now, to be my bride in the hereafter. His one eye shone with a luminescent light.
Frantic heartbeats tore at Kellach's chest. The Norseman almost touched her. Stiff wind from the ocean stung her face. She raced across the wall. Her lungs burned. Her legs burned. Her body was cold.
Dagger in one hand, sword in the other, the Norse pointed both tips at her. Those lethal weapons, almost touching her, pushed her body into spasms.
The Norse roared, then howled, Begone, queen of Dun Geata. His words echoed, reverberating off the ocean. He lunged at her. His sword touched her skin.
A mindless shriek tore at her throat like grains of hot sand on her feet. The wall gave out under her. She stiffened, unable to stop herself from teetering on the precipice. She flexed her arms to save herself but fell into the blackness.
A last, wailing, screaming prayer to her mother resounded in the black night.
Chapter Eight
>Wet from the downpour that obliterated all evidence of the murder, Bruic, riding the black, leaped the last stone fence separating the fields from the fort's yard. He was still annoyed with Kellach for her foolish behavior earlier, but he was angrier at the fact someone died under suspicious circumstances while he was in charge of this clan. That shouldn't be allowed to happen. He would double the contingent of men guarding the entire premises.
Planning on spending the evening with his men, and reassigning their workloads, he started in the direction of the fortress. Screams and shouts split the quiet of the night into a boiling uproar. His men ran out the main portal of the fort and headed for his hut. Gaels left their huts in drove and were coming across the fields at a fast pace. What's happened now?
The bloodthirsty screams were easily recognized as Kellach's. He galloped the black across the yard, through the Norse guards who were now surrounding the hut with their weapons drawn. Shrieks built one on top of another, in a deep rolling tone, piercing in their fearful agony. Bruic's dagger appeared in his hand as if by magic and he leaped from the black, pounding the last few yards to the door.
He barreled into it, smashing it to the side, and raced through the main room to the bedchamber. What he saw made his body chill.
Kellach sat upright on her pallet, her eyes open wide but unseeing, a faraway scowl to them. Her chin lacked its usual stubborn projection. Her face was as empty as if someone had reached inside and taken all the life and feeling from it. She had the look of a deer being hunted by a pack of hungry wolves.
Mindless shrieks tore from her throat like shards of hot metal. She moved from one side to another in the throes of some internal conflict. Her fists beat the air in a constant motion, fighting off some unknown spirit. Her howls and cries rent the air, her words unintelligible. Her breath heaved in her chest. She winced with every inhalation.
As wet as he was, Bruic rushed to her side and scooped her into his arms. He sat on the edge of the bigger bed and cradled her in his lap. It's all right, a chailin mo chroi, my darling girl…
Kellach hit him squarely in the chest with her fist, swung again, reaching his shoulder and then his cheek. She bellowed, Let go. Let go. You took my mother. Wasn't that enough? What do you want with me? Begone, you beas…
Bruic held her closer. He rocked her in his arms and willed all his strength into her disheveled, tense body. He murmured into her hair. It's all right, mo muirnin. You've had a bad dream. That's all. It's all right. It's over. Ssh, love…
He was baffled. What could she have dreamed to put her in such a state? He tucked her head under his chin and looked up.
Fergus stood in the doorway, his face white. I think the lass has had a bad dream; and it's not the first, I'll wager.
It's turned her inside out. She's not responding to me.
I heard her cry out about her mother, Fergus whispered. Och, the poor child. The lass's life has not been any more pleasant than ours, Bru. It's trouble she's seeing now.
I think she's been a tortured soul. We'll fix that. All of us. He looked up at the men crowding the doorway to the bedchamber. She deserves a finer life than what's she's been given thus far.
But you can't forget your children, Fergus reminded him. You promised the woman Dalla, before she died, that you'd keep the children with you always, he said softly, in obvious fear of waking Kellach who was quieter now. Her screams had dissolved into groans as she twisted and turned in Bruic's arms.
Bruic's arms encircled her more closely, and he continued to rock her in his lap. What can I do about the twins at the moment? Olaf holds them captive in Dublin. I sent Valdi to search them out. If anything happens to them, I can't imagine what I'll do, but it won't be honorable. Let me find the ports he wants, and perhaps he'll set them free. This is my land, my Gael, not only for me but also for my children and their children and all the ones that come after. I'll fight for it all…
Although Fergus smiled at him, his face was serious. I know you'll do what's right for all. You've kept your faith all these years and now you're back in Gael. Everything will work itself out, slowly but surely. That's what I'm saying to you. With a smart salute, Fergus shoved the men in the doorway out, left the room and closed the door behind him.
Bruic heard the outer door close and Fergus speaking to the men who slowly moved away from the hut. Bruic wondered what to do next. He was soaking wet from riding through the rain and the girl in his lap stirred up feelings he thought better left for another day. Holding Kellach upright with one arm, with a modicum of movement he tore the shirt from his back.
His bare skin exposed and tight against the soft breasts of the girl in his arms, the male urges in him exploded. Usually, he maintained total control, but now he was stone hard and unable to subdue his desire. His groin muscles ached. Why did the woman nestled against him affect him like this? As no other had?
She moaned softly. Her eyes were closed now. She seemed to be asleep or, at least, unaware. She felt limp in his arms, warm and soft. With care, he stood and lifted one of the furs from the bed. He slid her body beneath and waited to see if she would wake. When she didn't move, he shucked the rest of his wet clothes and, still damp, slipped into the bed beside her.
Gently, he cradled her in his arms. When she groaned and seemed about to cry out, he kissed her forehead, murmuring, It's all right, my lady. It's all right. Go to sleep. He moved her entire body until it was level with his own. His arm went around her shoulders and he nestled close to her. It's all right, a chailin mo chroi.
~*~
Fingers of sunlight spilled into the room through the wall slits. They balled into a fist, which struck Kellach between the eyes and overflowed onto her cheeks. She awoke with a start. Groaning, she pressed her eyelids tighter against the sun. It took her a moment to figure out where she was.
The realization came and with it a wildly accelerated heart beat and shortness of breath. She had never slept next to a man, except when she was little and needed the comforting provided by Lunn, who had acted as her father. Even with four unwanted marriages, no man lived long enough to bed her, and she knew that her chaste body was punishment for losing her mother. Her pulse roared in her ears.
In slow snail-like movements, she inched her way, to the edge of the bed, hoping to slide off without waking Bruic. She peeked over at him through drowsy eyes. He seemed so peaceful, almost childlike in his sleep. She smiled to herself and leaned an elbow on a fur. She could almost touch the floor with one foot. Her confidence built and she moved slightly.
A large hand grasped her wrist in tight hold and, with a small yank, pulled her back onto the bed. Where are you going, little one?
Och, dear Jesus, you scared the prayers from my body and took a year from my life, for sure. Held in an awkward position, Kellach tried to twist her wrist enough to break his hold, an impossible task.
You'll not get away so easily, milady of An Dun Geata.
Kellach yanked her wrist away from his grasp and rubbed it vigorously, surprised that no mark showed. Let me go. I have things to do, to get ready for the day. And 'tis time for me to make my peace with the Lord.
Bruic sat up and reached for her. She started to move away but wasn't quick enough. He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him. There's nothing so important for you to do that you can't indulge me for a moment. He tucked her under his shoulder.
Uncomfortable in this new situation, her head lowered to his chest and rested there, but only for a moment. She looked up.
He held her gaze. Now is that so difficult? He bent and kissed her forehead, then her hair.
Don't be doing that.
Why not? It's just a comforting. You had a most unpleasant night. You tossed and turned so badly I could barely sleep.
Although Bruic's body was warm, Kellach shuddered involuntarily. 'Tis sorry I am. Soon after I saw Padrik's body, one of my nightmares struck me down. The whole world tilted on me. Dead bodies remind me of a certain day when it seemed all but Olwen died and left me.
That will not happen to you again. I'm here to protect all of my people, Bruic countered. He knew full well of the incident that changed her life so drastically. But there are some things I would ask of you. In fact, I insist that you follow my wishes in this particular regard. You are to call me by my own name, the name my parents gave to me. I am Bruic. The protective arm and hand he had put around her shoulders squeezed her lightly.
Kellach glanced up at him. He was staring at her, a look so fierce the scar near his eye glowed a bright pink. But Bruic is a Gaelic name for Gaels alone.
Aye, for Gaels; as were my parents.
Kellach sat up and stared at him. You are Gaelic? I don't believe that, not for a single second. You act like the Norsemen of old, not like any Gael I've ever known.
When he didn't stop her, she continued, You're belligerent, aggressive and determined to have your own way. I would not have you lie to me. 'Tis not fair, since I am being honest.
Bruic sat up next to her and drew her closer. When she looked down, she saw that he was naked under the furs. She was hard-pressed to disguise her gasp, and her mouth stayed open.
Life is not fair, my lady. I'm sure you've discovered that already.
Aye. 'Tis why I trust no one but Olwen and Lunn. I have learned through bitter experiences that people are not what they pretend. The more power they have, the more they want.
Aye. I have found that to be true, just as you say. I trust few; only Fergus, Valdi and one other, a woman who has taught me more about life and loving than anyone in the world.
Kellach's face grew warm and she wondered why. Was she upset by his mention of a woman? No, that couldn't be. She stirred beneath Bruic's arm. He turned quickly and, with his other hand, lifted her chin. In one fluid motion, his lips came down upon hers. They were gentle and seeking. Kellach couldn't help but respond.
She stretched up to his mouth, pressed her body closer to him-then abruptly pulled away. She put her arms out to push herself even further from his warm body. This cannot be. You are the enemy, a conqueror. She turned from him and scooted off the bed.
Quickly, he got up as well, totally comfortable with his nakedness and his erection. He reached over to one of the hooks and grabbed a pair of leather breeches. Slowly, he pulled them on. Fortunately, they were cold and he was able to tuck himself into them. He swung the long, attached straps up and over his shoulders.
He turned and looked at Kellach. You're wrong, you know. I am not your enemy, nor have I ever been. But you're also right. He smiled at her. It's time to rise and start the morning's work. The rest of the walls need to be shored up and a thousand other things cry out to be done.
He reached for her arm. Come, walk me to the outside.
With little control over herself, Kellach moved to the inner door with him. She wanted to leave him there, but he crooked his arm under hers and drew her along with him. At the door, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers. This time, she didn't pull away. Somehow it seemed right. She stood on her toes and kissed him back.
In the brief hesitation that followed, she detected surprise in him. Well, she had surprised herself. It was only when his arm tightened around her that she became fearful of her behavior and backed away.
He never said a word about it but went out the door into the sunlight, a long, lazy smile dotting his face. Dazed, Kellach felt a matching, satisfied smile on her own face. Nothing in her life had prepared her for the feel of his kisses…
~*~
The sun plummeted behind the horizon in the west. Strange, rolling black clouds swirled over the great sea. It grew gray with foam as waves beat against the cliffs separating the land from the churning water. Heavy with a briny scent, the wind whistled with a low keening sound as it whipped around the stonework fences of the fields, warning all of yet another impending storm.
As Bruic stalked back and forth over the entire area, the soles of his boots scuffed against the rocky surfaces, and then fell silent on the summer grasses. He paused, trying to figure out what might have happened to Padrik. From what the Gaels had told him, Padrik was a strong, quarrelsome man, and it would take several to bring him to his knees and kill him.
There must have been more than one man. Disgusted by it all, Bruic stared at the damp ground, scanning it for the last time. He knew it was past time to return to the fort. He was reluctant to leave this area where the Padrik's body had been found even though last night's heavy rain had all but obliterated any tracks. He needed something, a piece of material, a distinctive hoof print, or anything that would give him some idea as to what might have happened here the day before.
His ideas about the occurrence would come to naught without proof. He could do nothing logical. He tripped on a protruding stone of one of the low fences and sat on the fence to ponder the situation again. Could one of his men have done such a dirty deed, killing a man in captivity? He shook his head. It was not possible. They were too well trained to falter in such a way.
Suddenly, a sense of unease, which plagued him several times during the long day, whispered its way across his shoulders. He stood and spun around. A huge reddish dog skulked the perimeter of the nearby field next to the last cow pasture. It seemed injured, dragging itself along on its belly as if it couldn't stand. It crept away from the group of men who had been working the nearby fields, perhaps frightened by their constant, humorous calls to one another.
Fergus, who had accompanied Bruic to the area this day, shouted, Don't move, Bru. I see the beast, too. Lord, but it's big. Take care. It may attack you if you go near. It seems a scurvy sort.
Fergus, it's only a dog. It looks starved. And looks like it's injured.
Are you sure what you're telling me? Looks ferocious to me.
In the next field, a round, pudgy Gael, Nally, a man with amazing strength and a loud voice, laughed at the two big men huddled together. Aye, 'tis a dog, Badger. It's been lurking about the fields for the past two days. I was thinking of feeding him meself, but me wife would act crazed if I brought home such a large animal. He laughed again as if to punctuate his words.
Does it belong to someone? Bruic asked, puzzled to think anyone would let such a grand dog wither away in the fields.
I couldn't be saying, Nally shouted. It was roaming this portion of the fields, seems like most of yesterday. I noticed him when we took up Padrik, may his soul rest in peace.
Nally was one of the few not afraid to speak out and that pleased Bruic. He grinned at the superstitious Gael before saying, We can't just leave it here. It might harm the children who play here. We'd best take it back with us. It looks to be a fine dog.
Taking a step further away, Fergus cautioned, I wouldn't be approaching it too quickly, Bru. You don't know if it's diseased or such.
And if I stand here jawing with you, I'll never find out.
What will you do if it's got the sickness of wild beasts? 'Tis not the time to lose ye, what with a murder hanging over our heads. Fergus moved backward a few more inches until he bumped into the stone fence. In a casual manner, he stepped to the other side of it and drew his sword. I'll protect yer back. You know I don't much care for the animals.
Nally, who must have overheard Fergus's remark, slapped the side of his leg, chuckled and shook his head. 'Tis nice to see there's something to scare ye, Fergus, other than our Olwen, who puts you in yer place. All too often, I hear.
Bruic ignored the banter between the men. He had seen sheltered looks passing back and forth between Olwen to Fergus but, right now, he was interested in drawing the dog to him. He crooned softly, Here, pup, come closer to me. I won't hurt you.
He took a single stride in the direction of the dog. Too soon. The dog stopped and cowered. It tilted its head as if studying the situation and the man in front of him, but it didn't slink away, or growl. A piteous whine emanated from the dog, a sound Bruic took to mean a request for comfort.
He bent a knee to the ground and made his body seem smaller by leaning on the other knee. Level with the big animal, he again extended his open hand but didn't move it or draw it away as the dog crawled a bit closer.
Be careful, Fergus warned from behind the short wall. Get your dirk ready in case it leaps at you.
Quiet. Bruic stretched out his hand even further and spoke in a calm voice. It's only a hand, pup. It can't harm you. You look like you've had a bad time of it of late. Did someone leave you here because you're hurt? That's it, come closer. Sniff at my hand. Good dog.
Bruic turned his head slightly so Fergus could hear him without any disturbance to the dog by a harsh noise. It's a wolfhound pup, not more than two, I'd wager. It'd be valuable to have around here for a variety of reasons. Someone has treated it roughly. Caused a fear in it.
The dog crept on his belly to the hand. Although Bruic kept his one hand out for the dog to smell, his other hand sneaked up the dog's neck and rubbed it behind the ears, whispering, You're a fine specimen. I see you're limping a bit. Has someone abused you? How would you like it if I took you home with me? He rubbed the hound's neck. You smell pretty terrible, but I bet the lady of my house would like to have you, after you've been bathed.
Fergus spoke up. I think ye're assuming something that might not be so. You don't know the lass well enough. She may hate animals, specially a dirty, foul-smelling beast like that one.
Nally, who had come closer to the fence to watch the action, called over, Nae, ye're wrong there, Fergus. The lass is a healer. She'll heal up that hound 'til it can't stand the care, and she'll fall in love with it at the healing. She often pretends to be angry and mean, to hide the hurt that's been done to her. But 'tis just to cover up the softest heart in all of Dun Geata.
I'm going to take the beast home, but it can barely walk. We've got to fix a sling of some sort to get it to the horse and cart in the next field, Bruic said while attempting to put an arm under the dog, which whimpered with pain.
Doesn't it weigh a bit much, Bru? Perhaps we can wrap him in something.
With a swift motion that upset the dog and made him back away, Fergus, still keeping his distance, divested himself of his outer tunic. Here, put him in this, he said, handing it over the fence.
Hand me that long branch over there, Fergus. That thick one, Bruic said. Nally, come over here and help us get this tunic underneath the hound and around the branch. We'll carry it over our shoulders and he won't have to walk on that bloodied leg.
Nally and Fergus came over the fence, and with every step they took forward, the dog gingerly inched a step backward. Bruic had to get back on his knees before the dog would stop and pay attention to him.
He needed to keep the wolfhound focused. Come here, pup. We're only trying to help you. We understand that someone has treated you badly, but that won't happen with us. Come on, hound. Come on. That's a good dog, Bruic pleaded in a gentle voice, wiggling his fingers a bit. That's it. Come on. That's such a good dog.
The dog crawled forward and put its muzzle into Bruic's palm in an attitude of trust. While Bruic slowly slipped the tunic under the rather large animal, he continued to rub the dog's head and talk to it in a cajoling tone. A mewling sound came from the dog to indicate the pain it felt. Once the tunic was in place, Nally and Fergus tied the ends of it together over the branch. They hoisted the dog off the ground to see if the material would hold.
For a moment, the hound struggled until Bruic settled it with his feet hanging down on each side of the tunic and its belly secure. He seemed to be in an upright position when Nally and Fergus lifted the branch to their shoulders. Bruic walked alongside of the animal, talking to it most of the way back across the fields until they came to the cart. They placed the hound on top of some furs in the cart and wended their way to the fort's yard.
~*~
Kellach stood in the doorway of the hut, her arms crossed over her chest and an angry frown on her face. What new trouble have you men caused now, to be wheeling up here with a cart?
None, Bruic responded but he looked at the other two with a guilty expression on his face.
Ye'll not be bringing me another dead body, will you now?
Nally laughed with glee. Nae, mistress Kell. We'll be bringing you a live one this time. Ye'll be needing to fix him, but… He turned to Fergus. 'Tis a he, is it not, for sure?
Fergus shrugged. I don't know. I didn't examine the beastie myself.
Yea, he's a male. Bruic stuck his hand out toward Kellach. Come, lady, look at what I brought you. A present.
A present is it? Now why do I doubt that? she said as she walked to the cart and peered in. Why, 'tis a wolfhound, is it not? And hurt besides. She looked up at Bruic, who stood so close to her she could barely breathe. Now what would I want with a hurt pup and more work to do in making him well, just so he can follow you around like the men do?
Nally chuckled into his full red beard. Remember, Badger, what I said to you about needing to hide a soft heart, he warned as he went to stand at the head of the horse. He clucked several times and moved the cart closer to the hut.
You're not putting him in there, are you now? Kellach asked.
Aye. Where else? Nally nodded at her. This hound is in need of yer healing ways. Would you be turning him out, sick and hurt?
You know better, you oaf. Go ahead. Bring him in. But only as far as the front room. He'll not be allowed beyond. Kellach turned abruptly and stamped into the hut.
Nally and Fergus helped lift the pup into Bruic's arms. With great care, Bruic carried him into the hut. As he stepped over the threshold, he saw furs placed on the floor near the outer fire pit. Something close to a smile breezed across his mouth.
Kellach, what do you intend to call this gentle hound?
She came to the door of the front room. And is it you I have to thank for this added burden? she asked, pointing to the dog.
Chapter Nine
>Circumstance, and the wolfhound, shoved Kellach and Bruic closer together than either was comfortable with. She suspected he'd been avoiding her as carefully as she had him for the past couple of days. Within that time, the wolfhound's legs had healed enough for him to walk around a bit. He was clean, had been fed copious amounts of food and seemed devoted to Kellach.
Called Grian for the many shades of the sun in his coat, he baffled her and behaved contrary to how she thought he would. He followed her everywhere, not Bruic who had saved him.
Grian hobbled close to her or trailed only a few paces behind wherever she went. Twice she had toppled over him and caused howls of pain to emanate from his deep chest and mouth. Still he stayed next to her, often pressing tight against her legs. Each time she tripped over him, his cries alerted everyone in the yard as to her whereabouts, and they continually turned to look at her, their grins scarcely hidden. Then they either laughed aloud or shook their heads in artful humor.
Nevertheless, her antics with the dog lightened the mental load the Gaels had carried since their subjugation by the Norse. The antics lightened their spirits. They began to joke and sing as they used to do, calling out to each other in jest or in song. The huge dog, with its loose, disjointed body and adoring looks, began to change the tenor of the work force and their relationship to the huge man who was their master-particularly when Grian rushed to the man's side with his tail wagging the rest of him.
Kellach had tied a small cloth around the dog's neck, so she could have some control over him. Each morning, she tried to get the overgrown hound to go with Bruic by handing the end of the cloth to Bruic as he went out the door. Grian seemed to nod in agreement and go happily with him. He would slink off a few paces past the hut, then sit and not move. In moments, he returned to Kellach's side, whether she was watching or not.
Finally, in desperation and not realizing how comical she looked, she decided to talk to him. She got onto her knees in front of the hut, took his big head in her two hands and twisted him so he was turned to her. He had nowhere to look but directly into her face.
After they were eye to eye for a brief minute, she foolishly tried to reason with him. Grian, I was not the one to save you. It was the big man. Over there, she said, gesturing to Bruic who stood by the inner wall, directing the placement of a large flat stone and using the strength of his shoulders to give it an extra heave upwards.
She held the dog's head tight, as if holding him thus would make him concentrate harder. All he did was wag his tail with more vigor, shaking his body hard enough to shake hers as well.
See? Him! she cried out, pointing. He saved you from certain death. Please, give your allegiance to him. Or Fergus or Nally. Somebody else. Anybody else. I'll still be your friend. She sat on the hard soil. Was the dog grinning at her?
>She heard a final heave of effort to put the rock where it belonged, turned at the sound and saw that the huge stone had fallen into its correct place on the wall. Looking up at Bruic, she could only admire the breadth of his shoulders, the deep muscles of his chest. Sweat coursed down his bare upper body and disappeared into the waistline of his breeches. He glistened and gleamed.
Kellach sucked in her breath and looked away. She could feel the heavy thud of her heart and the need, the terrible need; but she had spent so many years suppressing any sexual feelings, denial came automatically. She filled her lungs with calming air.
Finished for the moment, Bruic approached her. A spark of amusement glittered in his eye, a silvery glint from the masculine fires that blazed within him. He obviously thought the scene before him funny if the broad grin on his face was any indication.
I don't think that's going to work too well, milady. He really seems to be quite taken with you.
One of the men working on the wall laughed uproariously and slapped his leg. Quickly, others joined in with varying degrees of laughter. Soon, jokes about dogs rent the air. One Gael began to sing a rowdy piece about a dog he'd owned as a young man.
Knowing full well that her face was red from the crude lyrics of the song, Kellach leaped to her feet and snapped at Bruic. Oh, what do you know of dogs? Or anything, for that matter. Night and day, I keep tripping over the fool. I can't seem to move anywhere without him at my heels or under my feet. He's been scratching at the door of the bedchamber, trying to get inside. I think I'll leave the door open and see how you like sleeping near the smelly beast.
He'll just lie on the floor next to you. He's devoted. The way I see it, you've been the one to feed him. You've kept him clean and brushed his coat every day. You healed his leg enough so that he feels much better. Bruic leaned down and patted the dog's head. The dog's tail wagged with greater force, and Bruic stared at Kellach. He's indebted to you and follows you, delighting in your care, Bruic countered, a knowing grin on his face. He's only a hound. A male, at that. He goes anywhere he feels constancy.
Had I but known, I would have let you do those things for him…
Bruic! Fergus shouted. He jumped from the top of the wall the men had started but moments before. He and Lunn, who followed closely behind, rushed to Bruic's side. Bru, another crowd of folks coming across the fields, Fergus said. I don't like the looks of it.
Neither do I, Lunn agreed. Aye, they're carrying something, for sure.
Lunn turned his ruddy face to Bruic. Dinna' bode well, I'm feared.
Bruic sighed. Not again. Not another man…
Upon hearing him voice her own concerns, Kellach spoke with unnecessary force. If it's another of my folks, I'll slay every Norseman with my own hands, one by one.
Lunn cocked his head to one side. 'Tis only the men approaching…
With an animal draped over a slab of some sort, Fergus added.
An animal…? Kellach stopped, puzzled.
Bruic and Fergus took off at a run. After jumping two short walls, they met the group mid-way in one of the fields, where the men lowered the animal to the ground. From what Kellach and Lunn could see, a heated discussion was being carried on, with many raised fists and gestures to the outer rim of the compound.
Kellach took a step toward the field.
Lunn touched her arm. Ye stay here. Do not get involved in everything that happens here. It will not do any good to constantly be berating Bruic. The people are beginning to trust him. Let him handle it. 'Tis obvious the men wish to keep things in their own grasps.
But Lunn…
No buts, lass. Do as I say. Leave it be. Yer interference will solve nothing.
Aye. You go then. Find out what you can and, at least, tell me what's occurring.
I'll do that, Lunn mumbled, as he walked with great dignity in the direction of the group of men huddled around the thing on the ground.
Slowly, with the inquisitive nature of Gaels, men came down from the tops of the barricades. They walked with steady strides toward those in the fields, but stopped when Bruic turned to them and called out.
Saddle my horse and eleven others. Gather your weapons. I'll need good men, both Norse and Gael, to come with me. Men, honest and true.
The men scattered in all directions. Several traveled at a run to their homes. Others went to the fields, where they slung ropes around the necks of the horses they wanted. More men ran to the fort for extra weapons. Not one in any way seemed to disagree with the Badger's decision.
Bruic came to the hut at a fast jog. When he got close, he shouted, Lunn, it's but a cow, but I'll not have anyone get away with taking our food. He came to stand next to Kellach. Lass, when I leave, gather the women together to prepare the meat I'll be sending back here.
Aye, Badger. A simple task.
He looked at her as if he hadn't heard her, then, with a nod of dismissal, turned back to Lunn. Lunn, grab your weapons and organize a group of men to protect the compound and the clan. Have all portals guarded. Do not let anyone into this area without my express approval.
Lunn stared up at the big man. It will be as you wish.
Annoyed at not being included in the conversation, Kellach asked, What has come to pass? Where are you all running to, with your full battle gear and your horses? Will ye not be telling me, now? Both men looked at her. Neither spoke. Well? Damn it, tell me something!
Bruic took her arm and led her into the front room of the hut. Come, Kell, come into the hut. I'll tell you as I ready myself.
Without a word, she allowed him to lead her. Grian followed them. Kellach's heart raced strong against her ribs from the excitement of the moment and the touch of his fingers. Mentally, she berated herself for her wayward emotions. She knew something was terribly wrong and had no idea how to make whatever problems it caused go away.
She stopped in her tracks and put her hands to her hips. Grian stopped right behind her. Do you intend to tell me or just cart me about the room?
Bruic spoke quickly as if time was important. The men found some of the cattle missing. They tracked the prints until they came upon the rest of that group. All were dead and left to putrefy in the heat.
That's frightful. Our people depend on the cattle for food and other things. Who could be doing this to us? And for what reason?
Bruic had tossed a saffron shirt and his mail over his body. That's what we plan on finding out. Before the trail is cool. He grabbed a huge axe from its place on the wall, slung it over his shoulder and moved out the door, without her.
Wait. I'm going with you.
Bruic turned and glared. No. You're not!
I beg your pardon. I said I was.
Kell, I need you here to keep everything quiet and usual. I don't want to upset everyone. Just let the men do their job, find the culprits and deal with them. You take care of the fort.
He bent down and kissed her lips with a sweetness she had not known he possessed. Aye. Make things right for us all, my lady.
She watched him stride across the yard, climb onto his horse and wave to the others to follow him. The twelve men on horses jumped each of the small fences in every field along the way. They rode with determination. The amount of cattle each man had marked his wealth and prosperity in the clan.
Kellach's heart gladdened as she saw both Norse and Gael ride forth with one purpose. Then she stirred. An idea popped into her head. Grian follow. She called out to the hound. Take care of him, she whispered.
For a moment, the wolfhound tipped his head and looked at her quizzically. When she pointed, he took off, with a rumbling bark deep in his chest. He raced across the yard and fields after the men on horses, obviously intent on doing his mistress' business.
Those left at the compound conducted their chores efficiently. Men, their eyes turned toward the eastern and northern parts of the peninsula, stalked the tops of the repaired barricades with their weapons at the ready. Others stripped the hide from the dead cow and butchered the meat. The women of the cooking area continued with their chores, making more food than was necessary, knowing full well, the men would have a great hunger when they returned.
Every few minutes or so, the fort's inhabitants stared past the fields, searching for some sign of unusual activity or the return of the men. They would murmur to each other. All song and joking stopped. Tension filled the air around them. Surprised at her own concern, Kellach worried about Bruic's welfare and constantly gazed in every direction. She found herself watching the fields along with the others, unable to keep her mind on her duties.
The afternoon seemed to pass far slower than it usually did and dusk seemed to come upon the area far quicker than expected. Everything was hushed. Even the ocean was still and did not send feckless waves against the rocky shore. Many families returned to their huts in solemn dignity. As the darkness deepened, even the children left their games and went home in quiet.
Straining her eyes in the dark, Kellach shrugged and went into Bruic's hut. It was the first time she'd stayed there without his hulking presence. It was too peaceful with no one in her way, too serene without him annoying her with his talk. And it made her exceedingly nervous.
Suddenly, just outside one of the long, thin windows of the bedchamber, she heard a scratching noise, then a Psst. Psst, lady, a strange voice hissed.
The lisping sound was followed by the sound of pebbles hitting the outside of the structure, near the front door. She heard footsteps move around the hut.
Kellach eased herself along the wall to the left of the nearest window. What's going on? she asked in a whisper.
Here. The same voice came so near to the window, Kellach drew back in fright. She didn't recognize the voice at all. What was she to do now? She had no idea who or how many might be around the hut.
There was no way she could get out to call anyone, so she answered, Aye.
A voice with a heavy brogue filtered through the sparse opening. I was sent by yer over-king ta fetch ye. Ye're ta meet his stepson in the small cove, down by the beach. They sez ye be knowing where.
I'm not going anywhere. Who are you? How did you get here, through all the men guarding the walls?
The man chuckled low in his throat and Kellach's hand flew to hers. Yer Gaels don't guard so good as those Norse. They hum their sad songs, and natter back and forth, so a smart fella' be knowing where they are and where they be looking. 'Tis easy fer a clever one, such as me, to slip by them.
I don't believe you. Why would Morfinn send a stranger to fetch me? He could come here himself and be welcomed.
With him not expecting yer man to allow access to ye?
Kellach's feelings grew grim. She began to understand that something more was afoot than just the killing of cattle. My man…? Why, you fool…
I ha' no time to natter with ye lass. Ye be goin' down ta the beach. And quickly. I'll lead the way.
Her body trembled with the thought of going into the dark with a stranger, but she wasn't frightened. She knew it was exactly the sort of activity Morfinn and Ronan might force upon her. All right. Just this once. But my guards will come as soon as they see the door open. What would you have me do?
Blow out all but one of yer candles. I know ye'd be leaving one fer yer man. Toss a dark cloak over those famous red locks of yers and ease yerself out the front. Stay close to the building and ye'll blend right in.
Kellach blew out one of the two candles she had lit earlier and placed the second in the outer room, as she often did before retiring for the night. Thinking she had been well guarded by the sentries, she hadn't bothered to lift a log into the door hooks. That worried her. The men out there could get in so easily if they chose, she might as well go out. With practiced ease, she opened the door just wide enough for her body to squeeze through and shut it behind her. Her hands crept to the wall of the hut, and she edged her way around the building, trying to peer into the dark ahead of her.
A hand came over her mouth and an arm around her waist. Not a sound came out of her. She was crushed against a foul smelling body.
Hold her tight, a gravelly voice said. It was not the same voice she had heard through the window.
I got her, a more familiar voice hissed.
Tie her arms behind her. Bind her mouth.
Aye.
It seemed to Kellach that there were hordes around her. She kicked out at what she thought was a man in front of her, but it seemed both were behind her. One was tying her hands and the other shoved a soggy cloth into her mouth and tied it with another. She wriggled and fought to get away, to run into the yard somehow.
One of the men slapped the side of her head. Stand still, lass, and ye'll no' be hurt. There. She's tied. Toss the hood over her head.
The voice she was familiar with said in a persistent manner, Listen ta me lady, and be behavin' yerself. We're jus' taking ye ta the beach ta meet with yer friend. Once there, yer fastenings will be gone and ye can deal with me master.
Kellach pushed her shoulder against the arm that held her.
I'm no' fooling with ye, lass. Behave yerself, the man said, and gave her a severe shaking. Hell's demons. Let's get out of here afore we're seen by some guardsman. Lift her up. I'll hang on ta her feet. We'll carry the poor creature…
~*~
Bruic and the men saw the remainder of the slaughtered cattle in the distance. They stopped their horses and dismounted there, not wanting to disturb the area they would need to examine. There was little cover. Bruic figured the men who had done this loathsome deed were long gone.
Don't tread on any hoof prints, men. I want Fergus, two Norseman, and two Gaels. The rest of you go back to the last field and get the carts left there, Grian, stay here by me.
I'll be doing that, Nally, who had joined them on foot, answered. I'll be getting the two wagons and be butchering the remaining cattle to bring to the people. Let Arne stay and help me. He's the best butcher I've seen.
Yea, I'll stay with you, Nal. But we'll need more help than just the two of us. Should someone go back to the compound and get some more men?
Bruic answered, There isn't enough time to go all the way back. All right. Here's what we'll do. Five of you stay here and help Nally. You should be able to get the job done and be back to the people before the night is over. Every minute the meat is allowed to rot, we'll have fewer stores for the souterrains.
Aye. 'Tis true, but won't ye be needing more than six of ye to fight the ones ye seek?
Bruic had been studying the ground carefully. There are no more than five different sets of hoof prints here that I can read. And we came so quickly upon the spot, they can't be far off. We'll find them and either kill them or bring them back to the fort for questioning. I'll take the dog with me. It's dark already. Do what you can with the cattle and we'll see you before the night ends.
The two groups of men separated. Bruic, Fergus, four men and the dog continued along the trail. Nally and another ran to get carts from a nearby field. A man called Con, Arne, and the others began to carve the cattle into pieces that could be easily moved. When the wagons pulled up alongside them, they loaded the cart with as much meat as they could.
By the time the men had finished the butchering, little light from the moon shown against the sky. In semi-darkness, they all swung the last of the huge pieces of the carcasses onto the wooden carts. Every piece was precious to their lives and the lives of the clan.
They hitched two of the horses to the carts. Nally walked next to the head of one and Con the other. Arne walked at the front of the procession. He continually tapped on the ground with a stick, trying to make sure they stayed on the trail's path. The rest of the men grouped themselves around the carts, hoping to help the horses move it along with as much ease as possible, and they started back to the fort with the freshly butchered meat.
Fog had descended, creating more difficulty and slowing their progress. Other than the noise of the carts traveling over uneven ground, and the snorting of their horses, little could be heard in the quiet night. Finally, with much straining and pushing, they reached the fort yard.
Lunn met them at the last small fence. He was armed and looked intimidating. Halt. Stay where ye are, 'til I know who ye be.
Lunn, 'tis Nally. Con, Arne and three of the others are with us. The Badger told us to stay behind, butcher and gather up the meat. We brought it to the fort.
And where did Bruic go off to? Lunn asked in his usual quiet voice.
Arne answered. He and Fergus, with two of the Norse and two of the Gaels went in search of the cattle raiders. They took the dog with them. There were tracks left in the field. They followed them the best they could in the dark.
Why didn't ye all go?
The Badger said the food was more important; that there didn't seem to be many of the culprits and he could take care of them. I don't know what he had in mind.
Have they been gone long?
Aye. Too long, to my way of thinking.
Lunn started to walk away but turned back. Well, let's get these carts to the cooking area. If ye'll notice, half the folks have followed the sounds of yer carts. They'll be along to help, for sure. I'll go tell Kellach.
Lunn marched across the dirt road and then the yard. The night was too still, too silent. Not even the birds played in the dark sky. It seemed ominous to Lunn and he quickened his pace.
When he reached the door of Kellach's hut, he banged on the thick wood loudly. When it slowly slid in from the force of his knocks, he took a step back and withdrew his sword from its sheath. He kept to the wall and edged himself to one side of the open door. The hut was dark, except for a tiny candle sitting on a huge log over the fire area. It was almost ready to go out.
Kell?
There was no answer and it struck Lunn as peculiar. Kell? Child, answer me.
Lunn edged himself around the room until he came to the door of the bedchamber. He stopped and listened. He grabbed the tiny remains of the candle, figuring it was enough to light his way. Instead of knocking this time, he carefully pushed the door open and swung his body around until it touched one of the walls, almost extinguishing the flame held in front of him. Kellach, if 'tis playing ye are, ye'd best not be trying my soul so.
When he got no answer and heard no sound, not even of breathing, he felt around the high stones where he knew she kept other candles. His hand touched one and he clutched it before it dropped to the floor. The light from the little one touched the wick in the other and the fresh candle burst into flame. For a brief moment, its flame lit the room.
Lunn held the candle high and scanned the room. There was no one in either of the beds. Kellach. Where are ye, child?
No answer. Lunn ran around the room searching in every corner before admitting to himself that Kell was gone. He ran from the hut, crying out to all the people. Our queen is gone. Someone must have taken her. Come quick. We must launch a search. Someone go for the Badger. He'll find her.
Chapter Ten
>Kellach figured out where she was as soon as her bottom hit the soft sand. Her shirt had loosened and sand trickled inside her clothing. Were these men going to take her away from her clan, away from any hope of her mother ever finding her? She rolled to one side and curled into a ball, ready to kick out at anyone who came near her.
Take that blasted hood off her head. You'll smother her.
Ronan! For the first time ever, she found herself glad to hear his voice and know that he was near. Perhaps those men hadn't lied. >Lay still, lady. I'm only takin' the covering from ye, said the voice she recognized as being the first one to speak to her, from outside the hut.
Someone grabbed the hood and nearly lifted her to her feet with the force he used to snatch it from her head. She tried to kick out but was upended and slipped back onto the sand. For a moment, all she saw were a few stars partially hidden by slow-moving clouds.
Open your eyes wider, Kell. 'Tis only me, and I have no wish to harm you, Ronan said, his voice as quiet as the waves lapping softly onto the sandy beach.
I knew it was you the first time you spoke, she said, struggling to her knees. Now, will you tell these misfits to untie me?
Do not kick at them, Kellach. They were only following my Morfinn's orders. Ronan turned to the men who had accompanied him. You trussed her like a piece of meat, you fools. Untie her. She'll not harm you any.
The men walked gingerly toward Kellach. She smiled at them but bared her teeth, making her face a grimace. When they hesitated, she laughed. Hurry, louts, untie me. I won't harm either of you, like Ronan said.
The heavier of the two men produced a dagger from its sheath at his waist. He bent and sliced the ropes from her hands and feet. The other man stepped forward and helped her to rise from her knees. As soon as she stood under her own efforts, they backed away from her.
Thank you, louts, she said, rubbing her wrists. Och, Ronan, you and your stepfather will be the death of me, for sure.
Nae, sweetling. I wouldn't let him or any other harm a hair of your beautiful head.
Kell asked, And just exactly what do you think the Badger might do to me, if he finds I have disobeyed his express orders not to leave the yard? Much less when he finds me gone?
He won't bother you. He's off chasing the men who killed your cattle. You'd be lucky if he returns by dawn. Or at all. Ronan smiled, his face a grim mask in the dark.
Then it was you and your men who slaughtered the cattle?
It was necessary. To get the Norseman out of the area. Ronan grabbed her arm. And you're not to give him this knowledge. He twisted her arm when she tried to pull away. You will put our plans in further danger if it is revealed.
Let go of me. If you want to talk, do so without brutalizing me. I'm tired of your barbaric tendencies. As soon as he loosened his grasp, she yanked her arm away.
I do not wish to annoy you, Kell. It is my love for you that keeps me coming back here time after time. Otherwise I would let my stepfather handle everything having to do with An Dun Geata. He moved away from her and went to sit on one of several logs left on the beach. His henchmen followed him and stood behind him. Come. Sit beside me. I promise not to touch you, but we need to talk.
Kellach looked around, trying to decide where on the beach everything was, in case she had to flee. The large rocks of the ridge were outlined in the reflective glow from the sea. One rounded rock lay near her feet. You men, roll that stone over to your master. When they didn't move, she said, Ronan, if you want me anywhere near you, have them move the rock. I will not share the log.
Ronan signaled to the men to do as she asked. Grumbling, they rolled the rock over to face Ronan and then moved back to their original places behind Ronan, their hands on their weapons.
Now, move back, men. Ronan, move your men back, she said with force. If we are to talk, we talk in private.
Ronan waved them off to the side, far enough away where they couldn't hear what was being said. Now, Kell, sit down. I need to talk to you. For Morfinn and for myself.
Kellach moved like a snail in Ronan's direction. She kept an eye on him, prepared to run if he moved wrongly. She trusted neither him nor his men. Coming closer to the rock, she sat on its edge with great reluctance.
Are you that afraid of me, Kell?
I'm not afraid of you at all. I just don't trust you or any members of your clan. I am wary of your double-dealing activities-and have taken the brunt of many as well.
Don't you understand? I would let no harm come to you?
She swung around on her seat to face him squarely. Her face was hot with the anger she felt. Why should I trust you? I have been the object of much of your abusive ways.
'Tis only because of my regard for you.
You consider your rough treatment of me as regard?
Kell, I am in love with you. I don't want to be, but I am. And I don't know what more I can do to make you understand that.
Och, Ronan, Ronan, you mistake lust for love. You have no love for me, or any other. If you had, you would help my clan in this present situation with the Norse. You would…
Kell, that's what Morfinn and I are trying to do. We need to get rid of the Badger. Once he goes, things will be made easier. You'll marry me, and your clan will have a true Gael to rule them.
You know I can't marry again. I already have four deaths on my conscience. I am cursed and well you know it.
Morfinn says you're not.
He just doesn't want to look for my mother. She's the only one who can take the curse away. It started with her capture by those men from the Northern Isles, and it won't end until she's restored to me. She's the only one who can remove whatever evil spirit that follows me.
Morfinn says it's just a superstition. A Christian shouldn't believe in the old Druid curses.
Do you always listen to Morfinn? Perhaps that's what wrong with you.
There is nothing wrong with me that some gentle caring from you wouldn't cure.
Enough of this flowery talk. I have to get back to the fort before the Badger does.
He may not be coming back…
I don't understand what you mean. Of course, he's coming back. Just tell me what Morfinn wants, now.
He wants to know if you've learned anything new.
If it's ports he's worrying about, he can rest his mind. The Badger has been so busy repairing the walls and the people's hut, and getting them to like him, he hasn't had time to look for ports. He has not left the premises.
And what is the status of the fort? The walls?
Do you mean are they completely restored? When Ronan nodded, Kellach continued. They're almost complete. And taller than before, with an extra layer lying on the top. There are no more holes in the fort or the people's homes, except to let the smoke out. Men rebuilt Iomar's former home for Bruic. And the village has been almost totally redone from the inside out. A lot of it was burned to the ground.
And where are you living, my sweet?
Me? Kellach nearly choked on the word.
Aye, you. Have you traveled to the hut with him?
I had to. I'm his servant.
Has he laid a hand on you? In lust?
Nae. Nae. Kellach remembered Bruic's kisses and gentle care. Her face grew hot and her arms slipped about her waist as if she were trying to hold herself together. Although glad for the darkness, she turned her head away lest she give Ronan even the slightest clue to her feelings.
I don't believe you, Kell. You're not telling me the truth.
I am. I am.
Well, we'll just test my little theory…
~*~
Lunn and several of the Gaels searched the fort, the kitchen area and the grounds around the fortress, looking for Kellach but not finding her. Some rushed out to her garden. Others scoured the nearby fields. Their weary voices shouted and called to her until their voices cracked, but the woman was nowhere to be found.
Having been responsible for her welfare for many years, Lunn became more frightened with each moment that passed. It was unlike her to run off, especially in the weakened position she now occupied in the clan hierarchy. Lunn knew the situation was serious enough to send someone after the Badger.
Although surrounded by Gaelic men and women, Lunn turned to the nearest Norseman and ordered in a hoarse whisper, Get yerself onto a horse and be off finding the big man for us. He needs to be informed of the girl's disappearance. He has to return. Right away. To find her.
He waved the man off, toward the stable and called out loudly to his retreating figure, The Badger's got to be somewhere beyond the fields, on the trails to the villages or the mountain. Go, now. Hurry.
Exhausted by the day's ordinary chores, plus the added responsibilities of dealing with the disconcerted Gaels, Lunn stood watching the man storm across the yard. He was worried beyond all measure. Within seconds, the Norseman galloped out of the stable on the bare back of a charged-up animal. Lunn watched the two take the fences in the first few fields, until they were lost to view. A long sigh bubbled up in Lunn's chest, echoed by the sighs of the people who closed in around him.
As if in a trance, he looked around. The entire clan was gathered in the yard, along with most of the Norse. The hour for dinner had passed hours ago and most had gone without. He shook his head and stared at them with kindness.
Might be best if ye went to yer homes. Take some of the meat with you. I noticed ye hadn't eaten at the mealtime. He groaned in anguish. But stay alert. Keep yer weapons in hand, but make everything seem as normal as it could be, especially for the wee ones.
Olwen waddled up to him. Ye know I cannot leave yer side with her missing from me presence. I'll go and serve the Norsemen in the hall, but I'll be waiting for word, near to the door of the fort.
Aye, lass. Have some of the single women help ye. None should be alone this night. Besides, ye cannot do it all yerself, what with that belly leading ye around and about, Lunn said, giving her a smile of affection. Ye have to give a care for yerself and the babe ye're carrying.
Call me if ye need me, Lunn. I'll be watching for a signal. Olwen turned away and swayed her way to the fort.
Troubled, Lunn paced in front of the hut. Generally, things took care of themselves if left alone long enough, but the idea of a lost lady upset him. Worrying over clan things was not his general style. He was a warrior, not an organizer of men… Besides, it had been a long time since he had been separated from Kellach's side, and he didn't like the worrisome feeling it gave him.
The sound of horses coming at a fast clip lightened his spirits a bit. Men were returning to the fort. All would be well. The Badger would find Kell and Lunn could relax from his short period of unasked-for responsibility.
The first horse over the fence galloped across the yard and stopped just short of knocking Lunn over. It was Fergus. Get Kellach. A large force of men ambushed us. Bruic's been wounded. Someone stuck a sword into him. He's lost a lot of blood. He'll be needing all of her skills, I'm afraid.
Lunn thought his heart would stop. I can't.
Listen, me friend, get the lass. Her skills are needed.
Where's the Badger? Lunn asked as if he hadn't heard Fergus. I have bad news for him, he said, hoping in some way to ward off the catastrophe he knew approached.
Don't ye listen, man? Bruic's been wounded in the battle we had. Some of yer Gaelic fellows, from the sound of them. They were waiting for us and jumped us from behind, rotten curs that they be.
Och, Lord have mercy. I cannot help ye. I'll get Olwen. He said, pointing to the fort. The lass is not here.
Wha…?
Before Lunn could move, Olwen must have spotted whatever she considered the signal. Carrying a torch from the hall, she tried to run but couldn't. She was too big with child and so loped and staggered forward.
What is it? she cried, clutching her rounded belly with one hand. She handed the torch to another and began nervously twisting the material of her voluminous smock. What's wrong?
This fool tells me the lass is not here, Fergus shouted. 'Tis Bruic…
Who are ye calling a fool? Lunn asked, his fist in striking position.
Fergus leaped from his horse and raised both his fists.
Stop. Stop it. Right now, Olwen screamed. What's the matter with you men? Have ye no sense? To be fighting like boys in the fields.
The tremor in her voice stopped both men. They turned to look at her.
Och, Lunn, 'tis sorry I am. For putting names to ye, Fergus said, an abashed look on his face. 'Tis just…Bruic.
Here come the riders, Fergus cried out. See. Bruic's hanging onto his horse's neck, and the men are leading him around the fences. He looks as if he…
Olwen's hand went to her mouth, and she gasped. Och, good Lord… Bring the torch closer.
Aye, Mistress Olwen.
Fergus continued, The tip of a sword pierced his shoulder and stuck there. We removed it, tied it off with a shirt but he's bled out a lot.
Bruic's big black horse slowly moved into the fort's yard. The man on top of him, his head hanging, clung to the horse's neck with both hands as the horse approached the hut. Fergus and Olwen rushed to them. Fergus took the reins from the Norseman who was leading the horse into the yard. Grian walked beside the horse, stopped when the horse did but refused to leave Bruic.
Olwen grabbed a second torch a man had brought outside from the fort. She led the way while Fergus held Bruic in the saddle. They finally stood in front of the hut and Olwen put the torch just inside the door in the iron casing set there to hold it. Bruic's usual strength seemed to have left him and he tilted slightly in the saddle. Lunn ran over to help Fergus lower the bigger man to the ground.
Come, milord. We'll get ye into yer wee home with whatever ease we can, Lunn said softly.
Without realizing it, Olwen stood wringing her hands together. Lunn, Fergus. Help him to his bed. Ye might have to carry him.
Nae, lass. I can walk. Just give me an arm to help me straighten.
Lunn took the uninjured arm. Fergus grabbed Bruic around the waist. They heaved and grunted but managed to lift him up.
He groaned but felt a surge of pleasure at once more standing on his two feet. See, I'm not dead yet. Just walk with me to the hut. I'll wake Kellach. She'll patch me up and all will be fine. 'Tis only a minor wound.
Bruic, Kell is not here, Lunn supplied, his breath short before he could finish. We don't know where she's gone. We've looked everywhere, but have not found a single trace of her…
What? Bruic asked as he straightened further and gathered what little strength he had left after the battle with the miscreants. Something happened to the lass? Go slowly here. What are you trying to tell me? She would not leave her people of her own free will.
He broke away from them and moved quickly into the hut under his own power. The eerie silence of the hut upset him. Where's the dog? Where's Grian?
He was here earlier. She sent him with you. We never thought to call for him, Lunn said, holding his head as if a new thought had come barreling into it. We never thought to call for Grian.
Aye, Fergus said, he came back with you. We left him outside when ye rode in. He's probably still out there.
Your whistle, Bruic. The dog comes whenever ye whistle to him, Olwen added. She opened her mouth to say more, but Bruic was already at the door.
His whistle resounded throughout the area. Both Gaels and Norse came piling out of their homes. Men and women came from the fort's hall at a run. All stopped when they got close enough to see the blood dripping down Bruic's sleeve and chest, slowly turning his shirt red.
Another whistle echoed across the yard. Within minutes, Grian bounded through the gate from the road and rushed to Bruic's side. He barked twice and ran back toward the road. When no one followed him, he ran back, stood in front of Bruic and barked several times more.
I think yon beastie wants ye to follow him, Lunn said. He must be looking for Kell.
Aye. He would. Fergus, where's the black?
Ye can't ride that way, Bru, Fergus said, looking around at everyone gathered there.
Murmurs followed his words. 'Tis a fool's errand, Badger, came a retort from the back of the crowd.
Ye'll never get anywhere in that condition. Let some of us go, Arne said. We find her. Someone must have taken her.
Olwen said, Bruic, ye'd be the fool to go off on that animal now. What with yer shoulder and the amount of blood ye've lost.
I have to find her. She may be in danger.
'Tis more like she's bent on meeting someone, is what comes tae me mind, said one of the farmers, a sly smile on his face.
Several ladies hid their horrified expressions behind their hands. The men turned on the farmer. Grian barked and ran through the open gate of the stone barricades and down the road. He couldn't be seen as he dove into the dark. By the time the hound disappeared, Fergus had the black standing at the front of the hut.
Ye're foolish to go after the girl now. Ye could be ambushed again. It seems like a plot to me, Fergus grumbled. He put his hand out, just above the ground, to allow Bruic a step up onto the horse. Come on, Lunn. I can't lift this sluggish body all by myself. Put yer hand down here with mine.
Bruic stopped mid-step. Yea, killing the cattle and making us chase the villains now seems like a plot to me. It was planned that we'd be called away, Bruic said quietly, but was the lass part of the plan or was she taken by others? That's what's important. He leaned his head against the sleek neck of the black.
Alright, but I'm going with ye, Fergus said, and I won't be taking 'nae' for an answer.
Obviously, having made a decision, Lunn grunted, I'll be following, too. She'd never run off without telling me, unless something happened to her. I've watched over that lass for most of her life and I will no' see harm come to her. Either from whoever has her-or ye. Whether ye care or no, Badger, I go with ye.
Fine. Saddle up. You'll both go. But before you do, could you two help me up onto the black?
Ye'd be smarter if ye pulled him over to the rock we left for Kellach, behind the hut. Ye'll be able to stand on it and hoist yerself up with some ease, Lunn suggested.
Aye, Fergus added, the man speaks sense.
I am not the fool ye claim I be, Lunn mumbled.
Arne, who had been standing by listening to the conversation, took the reins of the black and moved him around the hut to the large rock in the rear. Nally and another of the Gaels came forward, half-carrying Bruic to the spot, and boosted him onto the rock.
Find our mistress, one of them whispered.
Nally added, And don't ye be letting any harm come to the lass. And don't be giving her any either. She wouldn't go on her own, for sure.
He won't have the strength to harm her, said the first.
With great effort, Bruic pulled himself up into the saddle. His energy had fled, but he needed to find Kellach. The desperate need for her, sharp and edgy as a dagger, peeled away all the layers of manners, behavior and ethics he'd carefully crafted. That yearning need bared the reckless man underneath.
Did he want her there only to tend to his wounds or did he want her presence? Did he suspect her of double-dealing with that weasel, Morfinn the Pale, and want to stop her? What was his real reason for searching for her when he could barely sit the saddle? He was unable to justify his deep and abiding feelings.
Dizziness and pain were about to overcome him. Once in the saddle, he garnered his considerable strength and straightened his body to its full height. It wouldn't look good to the people counting on him if he fell from his horse to the ground. In the pit of his stomach, he understood, nothing was as it should be. He'd have to hang on and stay strong until he found the girl.
How had she managed to leave the fort with no one the wiser? Where had the guards been? Lunn was right. She would never have left on her own. Someone had taken her. But who?
With nary a word, for he hadn't enough strength for speech, Bruic rode from the fort yard. An ashamed Lunn and anxious Fergus trailed behind him. Although both were silent, they each wondered what the Badger might do to the clan if he anything happened to the lass or he couldn't find her.
Chapter Eleven
>The winds coming off the ocean had accelerated and tossed salt water further up onto the shore. The waves thrust at the sand and rocks of the desolate cove in loud slaps, raising the mist high with its splashes. The cold and wet added to the night's discomfort, making Kellach shiver inside her light linen tunic and thin shirt.
A broken shard of moon glared down on the beach, its light faint beneath the web of dark clouds marring its hues. The silence of long-gone desolate spirits enveloped the area. Ghostly apparitions sprawled on the earth before her, burning her bitter memories to ashes. The cove where her mother had been taken fired its impressions into the depths of her memory, into the backs of her eyes, so that she could see the night only when she blinked against the tears dripping from her eyes. Her ever-increasing urge to return to the safety of the fort took her breath away.
>Ronan stared at her, and she was almost grateful for the silent attention. When he finally spoke, it was with warmth she wouldn't have expected from him. He smiled at her with tenderness far different from his usual mocking sneer.
I would have you listen to me. Closely, sweetling.
Kellach was almost tempted to smile back but knew the consequences of such foolishness. Ronan would assume an interest she didn't feel and leave an unpleasant trail of disorder in her mind. I'll listen. Say what you have to say but be quick about it. I don't know what might happen if the Badger returns from his chase to find me gone. He certainly will not be happy at my disappearance without permission, and even less so if he finds us together. He will believe we're conspiring to his detriment.
Which we are, my sweet. Morfinn sent me to deal with you about whatever information you've garnered concerning the Badger's plans for the future. Those plans must be known if our cause is to succeed.
If he has plans, he hasn't confided them to me, she retorted quickly, lest Ronan question her too closely. Just as you predicted when you left Dun Geata, he's been too busy rebuilding to do anything but…
Do not act the fool, Kell. Or try to make me believe that he hasn't spoken to you of his intentions. Ronan hesitated and his sly smile turned grim.
The brief hesitation and the difference in Ronan's manner gave Kellach pause. He's suspicious, she thought, and that's not a good sign.
How long have you lived with him? In Iomar's old home? he asked softly.
Kellach drew back. His change of tactics surprised her. It was the question she least expected. A nasty comment, perhaps, was more like Ronan but not a reference to her housing arrangements with the Norseman. She wasn't prepared with an evasive answer and sputtered, Since it was finished… I didn't want to move in there. I wanted to go to Olwen…but the man refused to allow that… I don't know why, other than I am his slave…
Truth once spoken imprisoned her. She looked away. Her gaze caught on a slender thread of moonlight and she said a soft prayer while looking at it.
Your protestations don't suit, Kell. You're lying to me. I don't understand why, nor do I like it. Is there something you're trying to hide from me? How much of a slave are you to him?
Kellach sat in damp, clinging clothing-and rigid displeasure. How dare he?
I'm not lying. I have nothing to lie about. All the man has talked about is his plan for the restoration of the fort, the walls and the living conditions of the people, she said with outraged vigor.
And how far have those plans succeeded? Ronan asked, with little obvious interest.
Kellach decided to play along with his casual attitude and answered in an off-hand way. The walls are almost finished, taller than ever before, I must admit. The Norsemen are working on plugging up all the holes in the fort. It no longer leaks inside. Everyone is helping to rebuild the huts, one by one. She yawned, as if falling asleep or bored. What else would you want to know? That the clan is secure?
Ronan studied her, his expression hiding his thoughts. The crops? The cattle? I would hear of them, too. 'Tis good to ask questions. People don't have to answer them any more fully than they want.
His comments garnered an expression of outrage from her. Do not make me laugh. The crops? The cattle? Why, Ronan, they're all going fine. Except for the murder of one of our clansmen, the recent stealing and butchering of one of the herds.
Her voice rose with everything she mentioned. In her anger she added more, hoping to upset him. Fortunately the herd was mine and since I am a slave, my cattle no longer count. They belong to the Norseman.
She watched Ronan closely but saw no reaction. That angered her even more and she decided to taunt him. But you know all about that, don't you? It was your men who slaughtered some of our best cows, for no apparent reason.
Ronan let his laugh boom out across the sand, as if he thought the remark too humorous for words. What a silly woman you are. Why would anyone's cattle be more important than the needs of this island, our Gael?
Being so silly, I wouldn't know. Kellach turned away from him in disgust and, although she couldn't see much, stared out into the watery depths beyond the cove. It is you and yours who make the life of the people of Dun Geata more painful than it already is.
Unfortunately, the massacre of that herd was a necessary diversion.
She swung around on the rock, listening to the sound of her skirt scraping across it, calming her gusty temperament and willing her fury to die. She must not speak until this huge wave of rage passed over.
If she opened her mouth now, she would hurl torrents of abuse at his ears, so she spoke with a quiet, deliberateness. Och, Ronan, you know how I hate that blather of yours, that mouth you've no control over, great flapping instrument that it is.
The air was thick and scratchy, dense with odors of the sea. Head thrown back and eyes closed in muttered prayer, Kellach let the mist settle on her face. A slight sound broke into her reverie, barely heard above the wind and waves, but enough so that she swung around in its direction.
Ronan heard it, too. He leaped to his feet and crouched low with his sword in his hand. Kellach saw a huge dark shape bounding across the sand in their direction. Instinctively, she put her hands up to ward off what she believed was the start of an attack.
Stand back, Kell. I'll protect you, Ronan cried, fluttering his hand in back of him, trying to push her out of the way.
A warning growl paralyzed her, but only momentarily, before she screamed at Ronan. Nae, nae. 'Tis only me…
Grian's body hurtled toward her.
…dog…
Two huge paws hit her shoulders and knocked her to the ground. Whimpering, happy sounds came out of the dog's mouth. A large tongue lapped at her face. Her laughter rang out over the lonely beach.
Ronan waved his sword around in the air a few times to punctuate his inherent fear. My God. What is that thing?
'Tis me dog. Stop, fool, she admonished. Grian, quit, I say. Let me stand, she murmured, using the dog's huge frame to push herself up to her feet. Once she stood, she grasped him around his neck and hugged the poor beastie almost to the point of choking him. 'Tis glad I am to see you. I was hoping you'd seek me out.
She stiffened. If the dog was back, so was Bruic. She didn't know whether to be happy or afraid…
Their attention on the dog, both Kellach and Ronan started with surprise when a deep voice said in a conversational tone, I see Grian found you, milady.
Despite the night chill, and through the haze of her shock, heat filled Kellach. She felt like she was outside herself, hearing the voice come from some far-away place. Prickling sensations crept up her spine, like so many spider legs.
With one hand on the dog's ruff, she slowly modified her position so she could look in the direction of the disembodied voice. The effect was unsettling, yet her pleasure at seeing him knew no bounds.
Sitting high on his ebony-colored stallion was the Badger; a warrior's smile on his face. Fierce and grim, he gazed at her with the misleading nonchalance of a predator. He was deceptively lazy-looking, slumped down so that his massive size seemed less a threat.
The sight of him sent her blood humming, yet she felt the full measure of his rage rain down on her, a rage intense enough to force her backwards. She nearly fell over the hound and shuffled around until she righted herself.
She sensed Bruic's impatience, his coldness and his disdain. He was looking at her with utter distaste, yet her delight at seeing him almost overcame her. She wondered if his anger had anything to do with the fact that Ronan was on the beach with her-in the dark of night. She understood this was territory into which she must not venture.
A cold finger of fear ran down her spine as she gazed up into those hard eyes. Disguising her deep interest in trying to assess her own chances at diffusing his anger, she asked courteously, What brings you to the beach at this hour, milord?
You.
Do my ears deceive me, or do I hear the Badger? Ronan asked with a smirk in his tone, his hand resting on his sword.
Yea, your ears do not deceive, came the soft but tight answer. And your question is irrelevant. You know who it is.
Kellach felt a rising panic in her throat. Ronan stepped in back of her and put his hand on her shoulder. She swiveled slightly and looked up at him. The glint in his eyes spoke of a subtle male fearlessness, of sexual confidence and conquest. The combination rooted her feet to the sand.
What do you want of us? Ronan asked, rubbing Kell's shoulder lightly.
The retort was sharp. I want nothing of you.
Ronan stepped in front of Kellach without releasing his hold on her arm. Then why do you disturb us? He trickled his hand down her arm and up again. The action became a challenge, opposing powers in a struggle for male supremacy.
You have my servant under your hand. She did not ask my permission to meet with you. Had she asked, I would not have granted it. For any reason. Her place is at the fort, seeing to the needs of my people.
Would you deny two lovers who seek seclusion for their man-woman rites? Ronan inquired. We are to be married before long. You have already given your permission for that. Or so my stepfather told me.
Kellach spun around. Words rasped in her throat. They didn't explode from her mouth, but her loud gasp broke the tension, sucking in the air around her. Tears blurred her vision. Her stomach gave a sickened lurch.
Ronan chuckled in enjoyment, returned to his place behind Kellach and chucked her under the chin. He grinned at her affectionately. A flicker of hesitation and disgust ignited in her eyes, kindled by his touch. Grian snarled and insinuated his body between the two. Bruic never moved, nor did his expression change.
Feelings of complete betrayal warred with heartsick disappointment, only to be replaced with a more immediate emotion, a strangling sense of panic. Kellach was breathless, shaking, dreading the consequences that must follow this meeting. Bile pushed up in the back of her throat. Her legs nearly buckled beneath the weight of her fear and the weight of her heart pounding like some swollen thing in her chest. She pushed Ronan's hand from her chin, turned and ran for the road, sobbing and stumbling.
It only took seconds but it seemed like an eternity before she heard Bruic's shout.
Stop! Come back here, woman. I haven't dismissed you from my presence.
Kellach stopped and Grian, who had followed her, smacked against her legs. She nearly fell to her knees in the sand but rose quickly by holding onto his wooly frame. Biting her lower lip, she turned and walked gingerly forward, tears streaming from her eyes.
When she reached the black horse, she looked up. She stood her ground, bristling beyond fear as she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. She asked simply, Why are you treating me like this? What have I done to you?
She had no idea where the words came from, but they spilled from her lips. I have kept your home. I have treated you and your men kindly, even though you have taken my clan from me. I have treated all with respect and dignity. And is this what I receive in return? This disregard? Must I now run the gauntlet of your interrogation?
Bruic stared back at her, his wound forgotten for the moment. The sight of Ronan and Kellach together on the beach had been an affront and a torture to him.
Suddenly, he was unafraid to let his need show. Without his conscious realization, she was the reason he had fought so hard for the Norse-to be allowed this final return to Gael-and to her, that little tot on the beach, so ravaged by fate, so brave in the face of it all. She was to be his. His decision was made so very long ago.
His body was weakening from the loss of blood. In the presence of raw pain from his wound, he felt his warrior skills slipping away, so he spoke soothing words and gestured with his large hands. Come, lass. Grab onto my hand and I'll hoist you to the saddle. We'll go home.
Ronan stepped in front of Kellach. Again Grian inserted his body between them. Ronan ignored him and concentrated his gaze on the Badger. The lass and I have not finished our outing. I think you should leave. My men are standing in the shadows, he said with a smirk.
Neither you nor your men frighten me. I, too, have men with me. They have already tied your men up and have left them at the edge of the beach. Bruic nodded toward the road. My men now stand at the head of the beach, near the road. If it's a full-out battle you're suggesting, I believe you should think about it further.
Bruic felt the dizziness flood him. He was aware he could not remain upright in the saddle for much longer but knew he dare not show Ronan his weakness. I'll not leave without my servant, since it was she I came to fetch back to her duties.
Kellach sidled her way past Bruic and turned to face Ronan. Ronan, this is not the time to push your attentions on me. Let me go back with the Badger. I do not want to see your blood shed.
If you feel you must…
'Tis you and your stepfather who put me in this situation in the first place. I did not invite your Norse friends to enter my fort and disturb my people. She stepped around him and raised her arms to the man on the horse. I'm ready to return…
Grian followed in Kellach's footsteps. His big body got in the way of Ronan's grab for her. The hound swiveled his torso and gave a low growl of warning. Ronan lifted his foot to kick the dog, which ducked beneath the booted foot and fled between Ronan's legs, upending him on the sand.
Kellach grasped Bruic's elbow, stepped into the stirrup and swung herself up in back of him. Gently, she put her arms around him to hold on but pulled her hand away quickly. She whispered, 'Tis wet you are.
Yea. I'm aware; but hush…
Kellach looked down at her hand. 'Tis bloody you are, she gasped. Your whole chest…
Bruic loosened the reins he had been clutching, clucked to the black and squeezed him with his legs. The horse took off at a fast pace across the sand, his hooves tearing up the distance toward the road. Bruic turned slightly in the saddle. Come, Grian.
The dog obeyed the command instantly. Then Bruic called out as if he had a troop with him. Men. Home. He moaned and leaned back into Kellach. Take the reins, lass, and get us home to safety.
~*~
As soon as Bruic and Kellach came off the sand, Fergus rode forward and positioned himself at the lead. Lunn fell in behind the couple. Grian moved to the side of the big black and kept a steady pace along with the rest. After the first mile, Bruic had slowly sunk into Kellach's arms. He felt unnaturally warm and blood continued to ooze from somewhere; a wound in his chest, she suspected.
She kept trying to push him upright. His weight against her was about to tear her arms out of her sockets and away from the reins, so she let them go, thankful that the two men kept them all corralled between them.
The walls surrounding the fort loomed straight ahead. Kellach sighed.
Are you able to manage, lass? Lunn questioned. A man that size is bound to undo you some.
Nae. I'll manage. Just signal the guards that we're coming through. I've got to get him into the hut, so I can see what's the matter.
Fergus turned and said, He was wounded by the men who sprang out at us from beneath the cover of trees and the night. They ran a sword right through his shoulder, cowards that they be.
Don't talk, please. Just go forward, Kellach groaned.
As they came through the gates, the entire clan stood up by the walls. They had been waiting. They made to rush at the black, which shied away and almost unseated Kellach and made Bruic slip to the side a bit.
Hoping her voice would calm the horse, she said, Easy, boy, easy. She turned to the crowds in the yard and spoke clearly. Do not push ahead. Let me get this man to our hut.
Holding on to the horse's flanks in a tight grip with her knees, she scooted past the people and stopped him at the entrance to the hut. Her arms ached from trying to hold Bruic up so he wouldn't slip from the saddle. Both Fergus and Lunn were right behind her. They leaped from their horses and grabbed Bruic as he slipped from her arms. She slid off after him.
Fergus lifted him in his arms, straining at the first heave up. Don't worry, lass. 'Tis not the first time I've carried him. Just open the door for me.
Kellach rushed to comply and pushed the door. It swung in and Fergus marched through, carrying his burden. Lunn, have someone take the horses to the barn, she called out. And thanks to you both for coming after me.
She ran into the inner chamber after Fergus. Put him on the tall bed.
Fergus did as asked and moved back a few steps. Kellach charged to the bed and looked down at Bruic. He's pale as a ghost. Lord, but he looks dead…
He's just dead to the world, mistress. He's lost a fair amount of blood.
Lunn came into the room, his arms loaded with things. Kell, here's some of the goods ye'll need to be fixin' the big man up. And soon, if me eyes don't deceive me.
Put those things on the table. There. Lunn, I'll need some warmed water to wash him off. There's so much blood I can't see the wound.
Olwen's bringing the water to ye, Lunn replied.
The wound's near his shoulder, mistress, Fergus added as he gently attempted to remove Bruic's shirt from the wound.
Kellach reached down, drew Bruic's dagger from its sheath and slit his shirt into several pieces. Fergus, why are you calling me 'mistress' of a sudden? Seems mighty inappropriate to me.
What else should I be calling the woman of me truest friend? Fergus smiled shyly.
Kellach smiled back at the overgrown Gael. Here, help me slit the arms of the shirt. Then we'll roll him and slide it out from under his back.
When they moved Bruic to ease their efforts the wound opened wide and blood spurted out of it in great quantities. Although unconscious, he groaned and fought with them, making the removal more difficult. One of his arms hit Kellach on the forehead and her knees buckled under her. She clutched the bed for support.
Damn it. Hold him down, Fergus, she said. Grasping the dagger tightly in her hand, she tried to slit the sleeves of the shirt but his arms moved with an intensity all their own.
Stand back, Kell. Lunn, who had stayed in the room but out of their way, moved to the other side of the bed and grasped Bruic's other arm.
Between the two strong men, Bruic seemed to quiet, just as Olwen marched into the room. Behind her, Arne and Nally carried in a large pot of steaming water. Some of the Gaels followed, carrying another large pot of cool water. Both groups plunked the pots down near the side of the bed where Kellach stood, but neither group left the room.
Start a low fire in the pit there. And put the largest pot on the tripod, Kellach ordered. Olwen, come talk to him. You seem to calm him down.
Without a sound, Olwen shuffled to the bed. She was holding her stomach as if it was heavy.
Maybe you should sit to do this, Kellach said. You look like you're about to put the babe out for all to see.
Olwen laughed and sat on a corner of the bed. Bruic began to thrash about. I don't think it'd be advisable for me to be sitting here. He's liable to hit me stomach and I'll have this babe on the floor. You'd have two to care for then. I cannot be helping ye here, Kell. Are ye all right to do this yourself or should I send in one of the other women?
Kellach paused in her effort to cleanse the wound and staunch the blood seeping from it. She looked around the room and realized how many people were standing about. What are you all doing here? I can't concentrate with all of you glaring at me as if I were some sort of monster who would hurt the poor soul lying here. Lunn will help me. The rest of you go. I realize that you all care. Be of good heart. I will fix him.
Slowly, the men began to stumble over each other trying to get out of the room. Arne turned back to say something to Kellach and several of the others bumped into him. He shoved one of the men out of his way.
Kellach, we'll be standing outside the hut, guarding it, until the big man can do for himself. If you need any of us, call…
Thank you, Arne. Thank you all. Someone help Olwen out, please, Kellach called out before turning back to the man on the bed.
Bruic continued to thrash about. She ducked under his flailing arms. He rolled from side to side, moaning and murmuring, while his blood wept from the wound. His words were indistinct, so she couldn't understand what he was trying to say or whom he was calling in that pitiful voice.
She washed off as much of the blood as she could. The wound looked raw. It would have to be sewn after it was cleaned out. Lunn, you've got to hold him while I probe the wound. It'll smart, for sure. And I'll need my potions. Call someone back in here. I'll wait. We've got to save him…
~*~
Lunn ran to the outer room but stopped at the door. Most of the men of the fort were standing about in small groups, or pacing, talking in low voices. They were restless and watched the doorway to the hut. The men looked at him and nodded. He understood their concern. It seemed the Badger had become one of them.
Lunn said softly. Arne, could you be going inside to help Kell? She's trying to keep that giant quiet and he's no' cooperating. I have to get her potions. They'll help to quiet him down. I know where she hides them from prying hands.
Arne said, One man is not enough to hold him down. We've tried other times when he's been wounded. If the girl wants to medicate him, she'll need several of us.
Take five men in there-or more, if necessary. His loss of blood has been enormous. Ye've got to hold him down or he'll not live through this night. Go, lads.
Lunn watched some of the men troop into the hut and turned to those left, surprised to see so many Gaels standing about, waiting. What do ye intend, ye fools? To wander about all the night?
He didn't wait for an answer. He understood their concern, too. They were beginning to fancy the big man as much as he was. Bruic's kindness and patience were reaching out to even the hardest hearts in the clan. Unable to express himself properly, Lunn shook his head and ran off toward the kitchen to fetch the further supplies Kell needed, hoping beyond hope that the Badger would live.
Chapter Twelve
>The tension, which had built during the troublesome day and on, exhausted everyone. The time had proved long and tiring for Kellach, both physically and emotionally. She was so tired she didn't have the energy to send Grian out after he had sneaked into the bedchamber. He lay in a corner out of her way and watched every movement of every person who entered the room.
With the help of the several men, holding Bruic down, she managed to stop the bleeding. She packed the shoulder with several of the many herbs she used for healing, sewed the long slash together and bandaged the area with one of her old garments.
She had cleansed Bruic's upper body of much of the blood, which had oozed from the wound. Now, her main concern for him was the raging fever and excessive loss of blood.
Throughout what was left of the night she fought her desire to sleep. Unfortunately, the incessant sound of waves, crashing onto the rocky ledges beyond the fort, lulled her into napping on occasion. Each time Bruic thrashed or cried out in his unconscious state, she'd wake up with a start, her heart rate accelerating at an uneven pace.
Her emotions ran from anger that he had not trusted her enough and bothered to come after her-and guilt that he felt he had to. She should have returned to the fort immediately once she realized it was just Ronan she needed to speak with and not her king. If she had come back, she would have been on hand when Bruic arrived in his wounded state. He wouldn't have had to travel further to seek her attention. Each time she looked down at him in her desperate attempts to settle him comfortably, she was struck with how helpless he seemed. He was utterly devoid of the strength she'd admired in him from the first.
Every time he woke, even slightly, she bathed him with cool water in an attempt to bring his fever down to a more normal range. She forced blended herbs and droplets of water down his throat with the same sort of suckling cloths she would have used for an infant who had lost its mother. He rewarded her efforts by twisting and turning to such an extent she had to call Fergus and Lunn from the front room where they slept. She needed their help.
While they held Bruic still, the hound crept up onto her pallet and settled, out of her way. He continually sat up and looked over the edge of Bruic's bed, resting his head there with wide-eyed innocence. Although Kellach had heard his sly, shambling advances closer to Bruic, she decided it was not worth the effort to send him outside. She didn't have the strength to force him elsewhere and he didn't seem to bother anyone.
Toward morning, Bruic stopped thrashing. He was terribly warm and moaned softly. Puzzled by the unfamiliar Norse sounds, Kellach ran to the door and whispered to Fergus to enter the room, hoping he'd understand the words and translate them for her. After listening to a sentence too low for her ears, he drew back and looked at her strangely.
She was surprised. Is something amiss? she questioned, her brow creased with worry.
Nae, lass. He calls out words of courage for his children.
She tilted her head to one side. His children? I did not realize he had such ties. That's very strange. I have never heard him speak of them.
Aye. 'Tis his way to keep things to himself. He wants no sympathy for…
Sympathy? Why should anyone give him sympathy, when what he and his men do is raid and plunder from the people?
Fergus' face grew ruddy with anger and he drew his lips tight together. Yet, when he sighed, words came tumbling out. Have you naught but nastiness in your blood? What more would you accuse him of doing? Lass, he stole nothing from you. Your clan was left intact until that unfortunate incident with Padrik, an incident that is not yet finished. Bruic's already made the life of your Gaels better than it was when we arrived. Besides if he hadn't come tae protect you, others, your own Gaelic friends, would have come and murdered half your folks or more. Be careful, lass, and be grateful for what you do have. He spun around and marched across the room.
Fergus, hold.
His back to her when he stopped, but she continued. I am sorry for sounding so ungrateful. I'm not, you know. I see what he's done for the clan and how he's built the fort up, as it was once. It's me who's accusing unjustly. 'Tis no excuse but I've never been allowed freedom, the freedom to search for the mother I lost as a wee tot. I've lived my life under the curse of a Dark Druid. Only that lost woman who bore me can make the horrors facing me go away. It's sorry I am for my foolish behavior.
Fergus turned back to her and moved forward at a hesitant pace. I don't believe you're cursed by the Dark Druid as you claim. Neither does he, he said, pointing to Bruic. Between us, we've talked.
Hagen… A cry tore from Bruic's mouth, followed by a string of Norse sentences, the words almost indistinguishable.
Kellach understood none of them. What does he say? What does he cry out for? I would bring it to him were I able.
Hagen is the elder of his twin sons. He tells him not to babble in the Gaelic lest he be punished by the master. Fergus shook his head. 'Tis a sorry tale, lass. Because of his strength and his bravery in battle, Bruic was forced to marry the miserable and ugly daughter of his master, a woman past her prime for childbearing. Sit down, lass, and I'll tell you.
Kellach sat down on the chair she had placed next to the bed. Her fingers reached out for Bruic's and she clasped them gently. She looked at Fergus, an expectant smile on her face, encouraging him to speak.
They had three sons. The first died at birth. Then the twins were born. She died within a month of their birth, but they lived. Another slave of Bruic's master, who had just given birth, gave the babes sustenance. They're-
Halvor… Further Norse words burst from between Bruic's lips. It was obvious something troubled him. He pulled his body upward and tried to rise.
Fergus leaped to the bed and gently pushed Bruic's naked body back onto the fur covers. Easy, me friend. He turned to Kellach. He's uncommonly warm for a grown man.
Aye, and he shivers. 'Tis the wound. Festered, it has. Kellach looked up and saw Lunn standing in the doorway. Och, Lunn, I need more herbs. I must get this man's fever down or he'll burn to his death.
Aye, Kell. Which ones?
They're in the third row of my garden, down near the rowans that hide my wee bench. Their color is strange; a deep green tinged with red. Fetch Olwen. She'll know which.
Aye. Olwen lays asleep in the outer room. She made herself a bed of furs, in case you needed her assistance. I'll wake her now, he said. I wish the dawn would surface and lighten this world a bit.
Lunn, the plants must be waved over a fire until they're completely dry, then crushed to a fine powder. Olwen knows how, she shouted after him as he went out the door. Turning to Fergus, she asked, Will you continue his story later?
Aye, Kell. I think you need to know, but let us attend to Bru.
You must help me.
What would you have me do?
The bleeding out has stopped, but we must get cool water on his body to cool him, and we must replenish the water in his body, to help with the blood he's lost.
Without disturbing the wounded man who continued to murmur Norse words, Fergus reached down and lifted one of the large pots onto the bed next to Bruic. Fergus grabbed the nearest cloth, dipped it in the water and began by wiping Bruic's face.
Fergus, first cover him with furs so he doesn't get chilled, then bathe each arm and leg by pulling it out from under the covers. You bathe him and I'll try to force water down his gullet with this cloth.
The two worked quickly and quietly together until Bruic started to shiver uncontrollably and roll about on the top of the bed. He began to shout as if he were fighting a battle, lashing out with his uninjured arm in a cutting and slashing motion. He sat straight up on the bed. Kellach jumped to her feet, out of the way of the moving arm.
Alma, get behind me, he shrieked, half in Gaelic, half in the Norse.
Then he went limp and crashed down upon the bed.
Alma? Did he say Alma?
Nae, lass. You must be mistaken… Fergus gave her a puzzled look. That wasn't the name he spoke.
I'm sure it is. Alma. Alma was my mother's name. How would he know that name? Kellach questioned.
Fergus bent to his work and continued to wet cloths and wipe them over Bruic's body. He did not look her in the eye and seemed to be concentrating on what he was doing, but Kellach was suspicious.
Alma, Bruic moaned. He struggled with Fergus, who was trying to hold him down. Alma… A string of Norse words followed.
We went to many places on the island before we arrived here. Perhaps Alma is someone he met while in Dublin, Fergus said, without looking at her.
Perhaps. Something didn't feel right to Kellach. Even though Fergus was Gaelic, she didn't trust him when it came to his loyalty to Bruic. She knew that would come first-always. And right now, she couldn't worry about things. It was more important to get Bruic's fever down.
But why would Bruic call out to a person called Alma? It had to have some significance, she thought. She would question Bruic when he regained consciousness. She shivered with hope. Who was this Alma…?
~*~
By the time a few nights and days passed Bruic's fever was down and his energy level up. Most folks had stopped by to comment on Bruic's health, to offer remedies for whatever ailed him and to ask questions about the work they were supposed to be doing. With the weakness in his body, he could barely answer them but always tried.
Not realizing the seriousness of their master's illness, the clan's children had run in and out of the hut and the bedchamber to play with the dog, despite Kell's orders to the contrary. With all the lively noise they made, Kellach was glad to make them take Grian out for a romp, which kept most of them from under her feet.
Only small Toryn, Olwen's son, stayed behind, gazing at the man on the bed without saying a word. He would stare at Bruic for hours then ask in a plaintive, soft voice. Are ye better yet? In the space of a few days, the small boy endeared himself to Bruic, who began to look forward to the visits.
This day, Kellach had a difficult time trying to make him relax and to leave the management of the affairs to Fergus and Lunn. Although pale, Bruic had scooted out of the bed but had been unable to stand up for long. Once, he dragged himself to the outer door and Kellach had to take almost the full weight of his body to escort him back to the bed.
Fully intending to cleanse the wound again and repack it once she got him settled, Kellach went about her given chores. Since the fever remained light and Lunn guarded the door to the hut so Bruic couldn't vacate the premises, it was time for her to go to the garden to collect more herbs. She strode across the fort yard, waving and talking to everyone who greeted her. By the time she reached the garden, her feet and legs felt ready to cave in. Half-closed from lack of sleep, her eyes burned. Her steps wavered and she collapsed onto her bench.
Her mind raced over the one thought nagging at her in every waking hour. Alma. Who was this person Alma?
A tingle of jealousy rose inside her when she considered Alma might be another woman Bruic had met in his travels, a woman he thought of in secrecy and never mentioned, like he never mentioned his children. Was Alma his wife? His lover? It wasn't a Norse name she had ever heard. Then another side of the notion preyed on her. Her mother's name was Alma. What if the woman he called out to was her mother? What then?
She shook her head, needing to dispel the foolish idea from her mind. She tried to laugh at herself but wanted so badly to believe the woman he mentioned might be her Alma. The notion tugged at her, but she passed it off. There was no way that Bruic could know her mother. Then a third thought crept into her mind. He seemed so familiar to her, as if she had known him somewhere before. She considered that for a moment but negated it as impossible.
Then she did laugh outright, at herself. Nothing could be solved at this moment, so she stood, stretched and then bent to the task of culling out the best of the herbs she wanted for packing Bruic's wounded shoulder. She shoved them into the basket she carried.
As always, the sound of the waves below, slapping against the escarpment, soothed her ruffled spirits. She moved to the wall and watched the sea roll toward the shore. The sweet smell of wildflowers, whose seeds the wind had tossed into the silt between the cracks of the wall, mingled with the scent of the sea and cheered her. She bent over the wall, reached out and snapped several of the beauties to take to the hut with her.
Cradling some of the flowers in her hand and holding them to her nose, she slung her basket over her arm and strode back to the hut, ready to face her next challenge. With the large basket clasped on her arm, she reached the stone building and pushed open the door to the front room with her foot. She put the basket on a bench and peeked in the open door to the bedchamber.
Grian lay next to Bruic on the bed furs. One paw rested on Bruic's leg. The dog gazed at the man's face with adoration. Kellach gasped. They both looked up, startled, defensive.
Now, isn't that the sorriest sight? The two of you, fixing me with your evil scowls. She moved closer to the bed, waving the flowers, ready to shoo Grian off.
Stop. Leave the dog be. He thinks he's protecting us, Bruic said, a wry grin turning up the corners of his mouth. We've had the most interesting conversation-about you, in fact.
Protecting you, 'tis more the story… Smiling at the incongruous scene before her, she moved away toward the corner table. Your two long bodies sprawled out on the furs is rather a queer vision to behold on walking inside this room. When did you become such fast friends?
What have you brought me? I'm starved beyond all reckoning.
Some flowers to dispel the gloom of the day and medicine for your wound. Besides, you'll nae be having much to eat this night. 'Twill only be the broth from the meats to replenish the blood you lost. She deposited the wild flowers into a round bowl sitting on the table and filled the bowl with some water left over from the jar she used for Bruic's drink.
Are you trying to weaken my body to the point where I won't be able to do the many things that need doing about the fort?
Rest easy, she said, walking to the outer room to retrieve the basket of herbs. She bustled back into the bedchamber with the basket under her arm. She put it on the floor.
Lean back against the stones. I must see to your wound. I don't want it to fester as it did before.
Kellach pushed him back gently and found herself falling forward with him, due to his good arm tucked in at her waist. She tried to grab one of the furs to push herself upright, but he had too tight a grip on her. Be careful, I don't want to hurt you.
But there are things that need doing and, what with you not feeding me properly, I hope I have the strength. His arm tightened around her.
His randy grin gave her a suspicion of his mood. There is nothing that needs to be done. Lunn and Fergus have everything in control. She pulled back slightly as if ready to explain things to him. The men worked on the last part of the barricades today. The stones are standing high and sturdy. 'Tis going well.
No. This is what needs doing. He raised his head and his mouth found hers for a soft kiss.
She fell against his chest and heard his sharp intake of air as she accidentally mashed his shoulder to the bed. She drew back quickly and moved a bit to the side, away from the wound. Och, Lord, 'tis sorry I…
The dog rose, leaping over them. He touched the edge of the bed on his way to the floor, turned around and licked their faces. With a small bark, he shot through the door of the bedchamber and ran through the outer room to the outside.
Bruic ignored everything but Kellach. Hmmm. You taste so good, far better than any meal you could possibly bring me.
Go on with you. Are you trying to turn me head from treating your shoulder? she asked playfully, shocked at the flirtatious sound of her voice. Why, she was acting just like others she'd seen. She frowned.
The hand that grasped her waist clutched her tighter and pulled her closer. Inexorably, the hand of the injured arm moved slowly up to cup her chin. Bruic's dark blue eyes bore deeply into hers. She tilted her head to watch him better. He ran his thumb over her lower lip. Her lips parted at the touch.
Kellach held her breath, afraid to break the tantalizing, breath-stopping moment passing between them. With a moan, he raised himself on his elbow of his good arm, making him taller. He gazed down at her with knowing eyes. His mouth slanted over hers. He waited only an instant before his mouth touched hers with a gentle strength that overwhelmed her. She wondered if he sensed her excitement, her longing or her fear.
His mouth moved with soft caresses, pressuring and probing with an energy she'd not suspected in an injured man. He emanated so much male sexual energy. She saw it in his darkened eyes, felt it in the curl of his fingers on her chin. He acted as if he was holding himself back from devouring her, and it made her feel powerful.
The contact was a shock, reminding her she was a woman. A deep, unsettling longing gripped her. At the same time, it turned her away.
This attraction between them could never be. He was an enemy, an enemy to her clan. There could be no future for them, even if she wanted one. She was cursed. Too many innocent men had died because of that curse. She would never marry again, never risk another man to such a horrid fate, unless she found her mother to remove the affliction.
The thought of her mother brought her up short. Kellach broke from Bruic's embrace, stood and stepped away from the bed. His arms dropped limply to his sides and he stared at her, a strange look on his face.
My mother… she said, in the way of explanation. When she saw him frown, she turned away to hide her distress and her embarrassment.
Your mother?
I just thought… She hesitated, looking at the floor, unable to go on.
What about your mother?
He wouldn't understand. Neither did she. She had made some huge mental leap he couldn't possibly follow. How had her mind jumped from a loving kiss that promised so much to her mother?
I…I…
Spit it out, Kell. I don't understand. The furrows of his frown grew deeper. Our kisses made you think of your mother? What does anything have to do with your mother? Speak up and tell me true.
What in Hades name was going on in her mind? She spun around to face him. 'Tis you. Several times during that first night you called out to folks. Twin sons you never mentioned to me in any breath at all. >Bruic struggled to sit up.
Don't you interrupt me by trying to get up. Against my wishes, I might add. When he lay back against the cool stone, she continued, You called out to her, you did. You called out to Alma…
So? I still don't understand.
'Tis my mother's name and you called out to her. Why?
Is there no other woman in the world named Alma? Let's go backward a moment. Bruic swung his legs off the bed and sat up, in defiance of her orders. One thing at a time. Why should I mention I have twin boys when most of your concerns center on your fears for your clan and yourself? My children can mean nothing to you or to your people.
How harsh! All children mean something. Are they not what we live for? Do we not strive to see our children safe? As I have my clan? They are my children. She quieted. But I would know more of yours.
Well, mine are not safe. He turned his head away from her. They came with me to Gael but are now in Dublin under the care of someone I know little about.
Then bring them here where we can see to their needs. I will care for them. She wondered if she promised too much.
I cannot.
Why not? They'd be safe here. The others would grow accustomed to them as the clan has grown accustomed to you and the rest of the Northmen. My clan does not battle with children.
I cannot.
So you keep saying. Then go. Take your men with you to Dublin. Care for your children yourself, she said, remembering the little Fergus had told her. Perhaps he really didn't care for his sons, since he had been made to marry their mother. You owe them that much.
I cannot…
There were certain subjects that enraged her. Not caring properly for children was the most important one and his continual denial angered her. Kellach snapped at him. I cannot, I cannot…'Tis all you keep saying. Sounds more like 'I will not' to me.
Bruic's eyes narrowed as if he were appraising her. He gave her a ferocious look before words tumbled from his mouth. They are being held hostage in Dublin.
Her heart fluttered like the wings of a small bird beating against the strong winds of the sea. She gasped. Hostage? I don't understand. Hostage?
Silence fell between them. His mouth turned down. A hard muscle in his cheeks moved in rhythm as he clenched and unclenched his brawny square jaw.
Not knowing what to say, she picked up the basket and slid away to the corner table without answering. She needed time to think and busied herself with grinding the herbs into a fine powder. Once done, she added a touch of water to make a paste, bringing the mixture up to her nose when it reached the right consistency. Her nose crinkled at the odor but she smiled.
She grabbed two cloths from the table and approached the bed. I don't know what to say to you about your children. Perhaps between us we can figure out something. Perhaps, the clan and I can restore the children into your keeping somehow. But for now, please, lie back. Let me tend to your shoulder.
Why would you do something for my children when you feel I've taken your clan away from you?
She removed the old dressing with more force than intended. He winced at the severity. She dipped a cloth into a bucket of water near the bed. As gently as she could, she washed away all traces of the former materials. Twisting and turning his arm, she examined the wound carefully.
Staring into my shoulder with the greatest of attention will not divert me from my question. Why would you do something for Norse children whose father has stolen your clan? He looked at her with a calmness she resented.
She wanted to throw the big blob of the new dressing into his face but answered him with anger instead. I would help in any situation that involved children. Having been without parents for most of my life, I understand the need of them. Were it not for dear Lunn, I would have been totally bereft of adult affection. Such a fate to children is not to be tolerated. Now, do my words satisfy you enough? Tell me about Alma.
She slapped the dressing on his shoulder with little care for the pain she might cause him. I need to know about this Alma.
His answer was slow in coming, so she pressed a clean cloth against the wound and held it there.
How can I think when you're deliberately causing me pain? Ease up, Kell.
She tilted her head to one side and smiled at him, knowing her smile was nasty and evil. If she gave in now, she might never learn of what had been closest to her heart for most of her life.
I will-when we can talk like two adults about Alma.
Chapter Thirteen
>A week had gone by since Kellach first mentioned her mother's name to Bruic. During that time, he wondered why she hadn't asked more questions but was glad he didn't have to answer them in his continuing weakened state. The past few days, her guarded glances and poorly hidden stares gave him fair warning the queries would be coming soon.
He was well aware of her concern over the name Alma. But both Fergus and he were bound by their own words to the distraught woman who had been captured by their master. At thirteen, when he and Fergus considered themselves men of honor, their solemn promise was enough to quell any thoughts of going against it. In their eyes, an honorable pledge made to a friend was sacred and must be kept forever.
They couldn't reveal her whereabouts to anyone, much less the daughter she had left behind. It was too dangerous. Mentally, he tallied up the people who could be harmed by such knowledge: Alma herself, her sons still in the Northern Isles, her two daughters here in Gael, his twins, himself, Kellach, her clan, Fergus, plus every one of his men, even though few knew of the circumstances. Only Fergus, Valdi and he knew the woman and her daughters were unscheduled passengers on the ships.
If the knowledge of the relationships were to reach Norse ears, they would all be in immediate peril. Bruic's current leader, Olaf the White, was a determined, single-minded predator who wanted only to regain Dublin from the Danes. He had his eyes on subduing all of Gael, and would go to any lengths to do so. At the moment, he was willing to let Bruic do that through trade routes.
All through their years in the frozen Northern Isles, the stories Alma told him of Gael, her home on the peninsula, and the daughter she loved with devotion not uncommon in a separation such as theirs, had fascinated him. He had come to favor the land of his birth, a land he had almost forgotten. Alma, with her gentle ways and charming laughter, was the food for the soul who had lost his birthright. In the long run, she was the woman who had gotten closest to him since the death of his own mother by Vikings.
He listened to her stories, relearned his native language in secret and made another promise, a silent one, revealed only to Fergus. With every bit of fiber in his youthful being, he vowed if circumstances ever allowed it he would find Alma's daughter. Once found, he would keep her safe and, perhaps, love her in the bargain.
His hearty laughter surprised him as disorganized thoughts tumbled through his mind. Where had the notion of love come into the picture? He had never loved any woman; certainly not the woman he had been forced to marry. His affectionate respect and regard for Alma was based on a mother-son alliance. When had Kellach earned his high regard? It was unthinkable. Survival in this Gaelic chaos, the rescue of his twins and Alma's daughters were the important things. If he found the siblings he had lost, life would be perfect.
His mental appraisals caused him to pace the floor of the hut and finally brought him to the open doorway. The sun shone brightly on his face. Short bursts of wind, smelling of the open sea, puffed rejuvenating scents into his being. For the moment, he was content. He leaned against the wooden upright and watched Kellach storm across the fort's yard toward him.
The purposeful look on her face and her upright stride warned him that his time to reveal answers was hard upon him. The time of reckoning, he knew. The closer she came, the more he felt like withdrawing into the bedchamber and pretending a relapse, but he stood straight in what he hoped was a welcoming posture. At her determined approach, he gingerly widened his mouth from a grimace into a smile.
She never broke stride, neither rushed nor slowed, but marched directly up to him, so close he could see the yellow flecks in her luminous green eyes, eyes with lights that lit the coldest places in his heart.
We must talk of things, she said with a stern severity not unusual to her.
Let us walk together then, he countered, his voice equally stern, but subdued. He made a slight bow of his head and a gesture toward the road. He let her precede him.
He whistled once. Grian came bounding up but stopped when he got to Kellach, who had left the doorway of the hut, first. She turned, waited for Bruic to catch up to her and walked beside him. The three strolled toward the barricades, leading to the rutted dirt path, which constituted the only road from the fort to the village.
Hoping to avoid conversation with Kellach until they were further away from the fort's yard, Bruic looked around, admiring the work done on the walls, determined to study the progress of the repairs. At every step, he was assailed with greetings from both Norse and Gaels alike.
When he attempted to stop, Kellach put her hand on his arm. The people seem to like you, she said in a soft undertone.
She seemed to be studying the elongated reddened scar on his shoulder with her healer's eye. Her intense focus made him uncomfortable.
I like them. They're decent folk. He smiled down at her, enjoying the scent and color of her hair, her bright fresh complexion and elegant, curved shape. With great dignity, yet joy, they work hard to maintain themselves. Your Gaels are a credit to their clan.
As are the Norse a credit to their leader.
With seeming compatibility, they strolled under the big gate, still in the process of having a covering arched over it. Bruic turned and looked up at it. His admiration for the massive rebuilding was great.
He touched her back. His fingers wanted to linger. Instead, he pointed upward. That's the last section of wall to be completed. The hardest part. But when done, the fort will be encased in mammoth stone and safe from marauders, be they Gael or Norse.
To my mind, the Norse marauders are already here.
Bruic stopped short. Grian bumped into him. Without looking at her, he replied in a decidedly serious voice, That was unnecessary. And beneath you.
Kellach bowed her head. Aye, 'tis right you are. Those were nasty, spiteful words and sorry I am to have said them. But, I'm aching with a pain, somewhere deep in my heart.
If that is how you still feel, there is little enough I can do about the words you utter, regardless of whether I understand them or not. Bruic started walking again; taking lengthy strides he hoped she couldn't match. Let's go to the beach. We'll sit and talk there, away from all the activities demanding our attention, he said, tossing the words over his shoulder. We can watch the water pound the rocks and sand of the cove and we can muse over the specific problems that beset us.
Kellach hurried after him. Aye, but let's hurry, she said, quickening her pace to a jog and grinning. Grian bounced after her, barking, trying to bite her feet.
Bruic's shoulder hurt from the jarring motions made necessary to keep up with her, but he didn't slow the tempo. Without noticing it, he had moved his hand up to protect his sore shoulder, wishing he had kept on the scarf Kellach had tied around his neck earlier. He moved speedily but kept silent. It was his best defense at the moment.
Just as he was about to give in and call a halt to their too fast pace, the beach loomed ahead of them. He saw the water, sparkling in its blue and green majesty, no longer so far away. The sound of waves lulled his sea-going spirit, allowing him to gather his thoughts. The ocean breeze didn't blow as fiercely here as it did on the promontory. He relaxed a bit more, gearing himself up for the scene he suspected would come.
Kellach found a rocky outcropping with a cave beneath, a dry spot out of the wind and spray, and settled down. The dog stayed on the sand, digging holes, searching for things to play with.
She watched the dog in his play, smiling at his antics, and pulled up her skirt a bit to let her long legs dangle over the ledge. She patted the place next to her and looked out at the water.
Bruic eased his large frame onto a small spot next to her. There wasn't enough room for him to sit with ease, so he let his legs hang over, too.
Does your shoulder pain you? she asked seriously, although the smile was in her voice.
Sometimes. But all of my old wounds ache at times, sometimes more than other times. This is just another wound to bear. He, too, stared at the water, letting its mesmerizing ebb and flow still his mind. The waves made him long for the feel of a ship beneath his feet. >The few trees surrounding the rocks and growing out of some of them cast lacy shadows on the sand. Every inch of this cove had seen the massacre he remembered with vividness. On this very beach, the heavy burden of bitter memories reposed -memories of the disaster, which had eradicated the remains of his youth and its impetuous tendencies.
There goes Grian, off on a chase. Probably going to visit folks in the village, hoping for extra rations of food. She sighed. Och, the air smells good enough to eat, doesn't it? Kellach sighed and leaned back against another rock. She raised her face to the sun.
Yea. He stared at her. She was so lovely to look at. Her face. Her form. He felt himself harden with need and had to perform mental tricks to make his mind immune to her tempting flesh. The fire raging inside his body would cremate him if he were not careful. His physical reactions to her were so turbulent thought was impossible.
He held his breath as he waited. He'd let her speak first, unwilling to start the battle that might come with their discussions.
Her eyes were innocent when she asked him about his sons. Halvor and Hagen, your twins. You called out to them in your fever. You started to tell me about them but didn't finish.
You were busy accusing. You gave me no opportunity to speak about them.
Well, do so now. First and foremost, why is Olaf holding them hostage? Why does he keep children in such a state? Is he not your friend?
His words needed emphasis to make her see what might happen to his twins and her country as well. Kellach, Olaf is after total control of this island, starting with Dublin, which he intends to take back from the Danes.
I do not care about the Danes. They tried to take the country from us, but they haven't succeeded, she said, turning to look at him.
Olaf intends to conquer the people through trade.
Through trade? It will not happen. The Gaels will fight Olaf-or anyone else who decides this island is theirs for the taking.
He chuckled at her ferocity in the defense of her countrymen and softened his tone. Olaf will gather as many ports as he can for trading between the two countries. There will always be men who seek to profit from the labor of others. The Gaels are no different. Once Olaf has the country needing what he supplies, he will bring in Norse families, until the Gaels are driven elsewhere. I have seen him act this way throughout the world.
Bruic's voice had gotten deeper, more anxious, as he talked. His throat felt scratchy as he tried to explain Olaf's method of operating.
That still doesn't answer my question about his holding your children in captivity. It seems to me he would leave them to your care, since you are providing him with a service, she said in a most logical way. You're following his orders, are you not?
He doesn't trust me. He's afraid I will fight the Norse now that I'm back in Gael. Or I won't find the southern and southwestern ports he's depending on for his scheme. A groan escaped from his lips. Bruic leaned his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. He keeps the twins from me. To force my obedience.
Kellach put her hand on his shoulder. Now I surely don't understand. Why should he do that to a friend, a fellow warrior? She ran her hand up and down his back in sympathy. Why does he not trust you?
He knew her gesture was for comfort, but her very touch kindled a wanting in him, difficult to ignore. He wanted to grab her and kiss her until she surrendered everything to him. He edged around on the rock so his back was to her and she couldn't read his expression. He looked out past the ledges of the small cove to the sea and noticed an object bobbing about, too far away to recognize as anything other than a piece of debris.
He spoke in muted tones, as if to himself. After my enslavement, the only way for me to survive in the Isles was to become a warrior, a fighter, yet I have deplored the savage ruin of innocent women and children. Most of my three-and-thirty years were as a mercenary, fighting for one Norse master after another. This is only the second time they have let me touch the shores of my own land. Once when I was three-and-ten, and then now.
He heard her gasp, cared not why and continued with his tale. I am a warrior by trade, Kellach, but I am not Olaf's friend. He is merely another master in a series of masters since I was first taken from the monastery. Were you not surprised I could speak the Gaelic?
Aye, I was…
Because this is the land of my birth. Through the years, another slave secretly schooled both Fergus and me in the language and customs we had forgotten. Now, Olaf ensures my best behavior by keeping my children hidden from me.
Och, Bruic, 'tis sorry I am for your troubles. For the longest time, I had no idea you were anything more than a Norseman, enemy to my people. Dare I ask where you're from?
Not far from here. I am from Morfinn's clan, one he claimed after my father and mother were killed. There was no one left to stop him.
Kellach's second gasp was louder than her first. Morfinn's clan? Does he not recognize you?
Nae, he does not recognize me. I don't believe my siblings, whom he surely knows, look anything like me. I am dark like my mother while, from what I remember, my siblings are fair-haired like my father was. Bruic turned and looked at her squarely. Does coming from that clan lessen me in your eyes?
His concentration on her face was intense. He watched a myriad of expressions flash then drift. He cupped her chin gently. The slight wind and the murmur of waves lapping against the sand were the only sounds he heard as he waited for her response.
She raised her hand to his and held it tight. I'm beginning to think the true measure of a man is not where he's from. If I compared you to Ronan and Morfinn, two Gaelic patriots, as they call themselves, they'd pale in comparison. But my people consider you an enemy. I must inform them you're as Gaelic as they are.
Not yet. Bruic stood and climbed down from the rocky ledge to the beach. His gaze continued to search the sea for the floating debris. It puzzled him. He raised his hand up to Kellach, beckoning for her to come to him.
When she stood close to him, he looked down at her and feasted his eyes on the beauty he saw within her, her innate goodness. Neither Morfinn nor Ronan know I'm Gaelic or who I truly am. They would consider me a threat to their clan kingship. When the Norse came, I was able to conceal my sister and brother so they couldn't be found. My brother should have been declared king after my father died and I was stolen, but he was too little. There were no male members of our family left to fight for him. To this day, I'm not sure how the raiders found my hiding place.
Your life was no better than mine. It's sorry I am, for true. She went to touch his arm but he moved away.
In a deep, grave voice, he said, I do not want your pity. He drew himself up as tall as he could. Kell, I know you want to ask about Alma. There is only so much I am allowed to say, for I've given my word.
Your word?
Frantically, Kellach looked up and down the beach. She acted as if she didn't know whether to come closer or to go away. She finally wheeled around and glared at him.
In anger she spit out, Then the Alma ye mentioned is me mother. Ye know of me mother, and ye would not tell me, ye beast. How could ye… She took a step closer to him and raised her fist.
Bruic closed his hand over hers and brought it down to her side. He could almost measure her fury from the tenseness in her arm and the Gaelic touch to her speech. Slowly, he uncurled her fingers, one by one. Her body emanated a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the day. Her face was as red as her hair.
Do you want to hear more or are you going to let your anger rule? he asked with great patience.
I'll listen to what ye have to say, but… Abruptly, she sat on the sand and fixed an empty gaze at the water.
Bruic sat beside her. He wanted to comfort her but knew if he told the truth, there would be little solace in it. Nevertheless, he started. I was three-and-ten at the time I met your mother. We were thrown together by happenstance. She became a slave of my master's family. Throughout the years, she helped to keep my spirits high by telling me stories of the old sod, forcing Christian prayers on me and reinforcing the small amount of Gaelic I remembered. He chuckled in remembrance of that time.
He looked at Kellach, who seemed transfixed in her own bit of imagining. Before long, your mother fell in love with my master, who was kind to her. In the intervening years, she bore him four children. From the moment the first was born, she dedicated her life to it, believing she would never be allowed to leave those Isles or to see you again. She prayed constantly you wouldn't feel deserted or filled with hate.
He paused, looking to see how what he said affected her. She had not changed her position or made any attempt to stop his story, so he continued, When my master died and I went to another master, to battle for him on the coast of another country, your mother fell into a decline.
She's dead? Huge tears rolled from her eyes and trickled down her face.
Nae, lass, she's not dead. She turned melancholy because her favorite people had gone away from her. She was left alone to raise the children in the Norse ways, foreign ways, and that upset her.
With eyes glowing from further unshed tears, Kellach turned to him. Why didn't she return here? She would have been welcomed.
She did not believe that and was faced with another dilemma. How could she leave the Norse children behind? She could imagine what the Gaels would think of her, having born children of another race.
I would have taken her back. My arms would always be open to her.
Bruic smiled down at her. She couldn't know that. He wanted to distract her for the moment, give her time to digest the facts. Let's move back up onto the rocks. It's too damp here. Come, lass, he said, standing and offering his hand to her.
Kellach placed her hand in his, let him help her to her feet and followed him across the beach, back to the rocky ledge. Finish your story. I feel there is more I need to hear.
I don't know exactly what you're looking for, or if I can tell you all of it in such a short time.
Kellach swung around on the ledge. She got on her knees in front of him. Tell me something, anything, to dispel this terrible need I bear to rid myself of this Druid's curse. I beg you.
Bruic lifted her up, turned her and sat her on his lap. The moment he did, he realized it was a mistake. So did she. Her face grew pink, and with a start, she moved off his lap and edged back onto the rock.
Kellach, listen to me. I made a solemn oath to your mother that I would never reveal her identity to others or her location. And I hope that suffices for you. Although I cannot tell you where she is, I can tell you she's alive and well.
He glanced down at her. The pensive look on her face was one of supreme longing. Your two brothers remained in the Northern Isles. One is seventeen, the other fifteen. They are well able to care for themselves and are becoming men of the sea under the tutelage of a master shipbuilder.
And my mother and the others? You did say four.
They are well. You have a young sister who is only ten, a year younger than my twins. Unfortunately, she is being held hostage with my boys.
Kellach leaped to her feet and faced him squarely, her feet at the edge of the rocky ledge. Ye mean they are all here in Gael? They've been here all this time and ye haven't told me? Ye've known how much I need to see my mother and ye have kept her from me? How could ye? She slapped his cheek with all the power she had in her.
He rocked back but plunged forward to keep her from falling off the ledge onto more rocks. He drew her close and kept a tight grip on her wrist. Do not upset yourself. I told you I promised your mother never to reveal her hiding place. I do not break my promises, as I told you and your people. Besides, she doesn't dare incur Olaf's wrath any more than she already has by coming here. She wants her youngest back.
And me? What am I? she sobbed into his chest.
Someone she loves more than her own life. But she cannot risk the lives of her other children or mine either.
With her huddled in his arms, he looked over the top of her head and scanned the ocean. His body tensed. The bit of debris he noticed earlier was closer. It was a ship, but he couldn't make out its markings. No sails sprang from its gunnels to dot the horizon. He had no idea who it might be but hoped it was Valdi, here again, with the children. He could take no chances. Perhaps Olaf has sent someone to check on the progress of securing a port.
Kellach. He shook her slightly.
She came alert with a start. What's wrong?
Stop your tears. I see a ship in the distance. I don't know whose ship it is. We must hurry back to the fort. Warn everyone to prepare.
Aye, Bruic. Let me run. Don't do more harm to your shoulder. We may have need of it and of your fighting spirit.
Go, lass, go. I'll follow you, he said, watching her run from the beach and up the road.>He turned slowly back toward the water, wishing he could see the markings on the ship…
Chapter Fourteen
>Fully dressed in battle gear, Gaelic and Norse men, along with several of the older boys, ringed the barricade walls, knelt on top of them behind huge stones, or lay in wait for enemies foolish enough to try an approach onto the open fields or into the huts. Most of the women and younger children-with the exception of those learned in the ways of tending to the wounded-were hidden in the souterrains below or in the caves of the promontory.
Kellach stood in the doorway of the fort; staring out into the fog settling on the land in ever increasing density, she waited in anguish for Bruic's return. To her mind, he should have appeared long before this. She took a step forward, prepared to seek him out; although he might be more difficult to find if the fog grew any thicker.
Hsst. Milady. Go back inside, whispered a voice. One of the Norse warriors she didn't know well. He was crouched on one the side of the stone fort.
Instead of following his instructions, she inched down onto her stomach over the small steps up from the fort's hall and leaned on her elbows. Between slightly closed lips, she mumbled in hushed tones, The Badger has not yet returned from the beach. He sent me ahead. He said he'd be right in back of me. He should have been here by now, unless something happened to him.
Don't worry, milady. He's probably scouting the area to see if he can identify the ship?
The ship was too far away to see anything clearly. He would have to wait until nightfall before they finally appeared close enough for him to learn who they are. Plus, with the mist so heavy, what could he discern anyway? Her breast touched the stairs as she began to crawl out of the entryway toward the Norsemen who were guarding the fort.
Another voice, in back of her, spoke quietly. Get back milady. An older, stout Gaelic soldier, a relative of Nally's, admonished her further from the other side of the fort. Ye best listen to Buri and his sensible words. Ye have no business charging about the yard. There might be danger about, and knowing ye, ye'll be in the thick of it.
Kellach turned her head in the other direction and spoke directly to the first guard. I've been caring for myself for many years. I will do nothing I don't feel is right. And your master has not come back to the fort. Something's wrong, I'm most sure.
The soldier stood upright and signaled to someone. Fergus came charging to the fort at a lope. His gear clanged against him as he ran.
What's wrong? he asked looking at both guards. I told you to guard the ladies in the building.
The guard tipped his head toward Kellach who was still crawling forward. Fergus looked down at her.
What are ye doing there, Kell? 'Tis putting us in peril is what ye're doing.
Kellach stood. She dusted off her tunic and skirt in a gesture typical of one of her angry states. She drew herself to her full height, which wasn't as tall as Fergus', so she stepped onto her toes and shoved herself as close to him as she could without being improper.
Ye mean to tell me that ye'd let Bruic stay away like this when ye don't even know what he's faced with?
Kell, my orders, from yer own mouth, were to guard these premises with me very life. Besides, the hound hasn't returned either. He probably with Bruic.
Suddenly Lunn loomed behind him. He paused and knotted his arms across his chest. In a most exasperated voice, he questioned her. What are ye doing, child? Do ye never listen? Are ye causing troubles to me friend Fergus, who has been set to protect ye and yer people from bodily harm?
Och, yer friend, is it now? Kellach turned toward him, her anger flushing her face. Since when do ye listen to a man from the Northern Isles?
Since they helped us to rebuild and treated us fairly in the doing. The Badger said to protect the fort and all its folks. That's what Fergus and I intend to do, so go back inside and wait like ye were told. If anything had happened to the man, forces would be clamoring the very walls by now. Besides, Fergus is a Gael.
No sooner had those words left Lunn's mouth than the man lying atop the highest barricade gave a hoarse, muted call. Horses approaching!
See…
Lunn, Fergus and Kellach ran for the walls. Fergus climbed the inner stairs to the top and peered down. Lunn grabbed Kellach and shoved her behind him. A shout came from the other side of the wall.
Let us in. We're cold and damp-in need of sustenance.
Fergus shouted in a harsh Gaelic, Who goes there?
Don't ye recognize yer own king, fool? was the immediate reply.
'Tis Morfinn, Kellach said, yanking on Lunn's short cloak. 'Tis only Morfinn and his men. Let them in. And now tell me, where could Bruic be?
Come forward where I can see ye, Fergus shouted.
Aye. 'Tis me and Ronan and only five of our men. Hardly a large force, at that. Come to visit, we have, but with the new wall up, so high and crooked, 'tis hard to tell where the entrance is. We're all on horse, so don't do anything dangerous to frighten the poor beasties.
This is nonsense, Ronan shouted. It is your king. Let him enter unmolested.
You go first, son. You're more agile than I am. I don't trust those Norse to do nothing.
Kellach could hear their voices bounce against the stone of the barricades and ran to the gate. She called to them. There is no gate yet. I know 'tis difficult to see in this fog, but go to your left about three paces and you'll see an entrance way before you. It winds a bit, but permits easy access once you spy it.
After a bit more confusion and loud curse words, seven men rode through the narrow entrance, one at a time. Ronan was in the lead and Morfinn at the end, surrounded by three of the guards.
Kellach stood off to one side as they entered but before they were all fully inside the yard, she edged her body around the Morfinn's horse and scooted through the opening of the wall, hoping no one noticed. If they didn't, she'd be far away before they were aware. She charged down the road, barely able to see in front of her. Her hands splayed out in front of her, and she tapped the ground with the toe of her boots, not unlike the actions in one of her nightmares.
~*~
She stumbled over a rock she couldn't see but ran as fast as she could in the dark caused by the fog's heavy cover. She fell to the ground twice, her body twisting beneath her. Scraped and sore, she persevered, veering a bit to the right. Before long, she felt sand under her feet. She was at the cove.
When she looked up to get her bearings, the tall prow of a Norse ship loomed in her line of vision through a break in the fog. It had been dragged up onto the sandy shore, tied to huge rocks and looked empty, like a ghostly ark. Almost lost in the gray mist surrounding her, Kellach turned in every direction, looking for signs of life. She listened carefully to any sounds other than the sea, the wind or the birds. Fearful of the eerie silence so like her hideous dreams, she wanted to whisper Bruic's name, praying he would answer.
He couldn't have disappeared, she thought. Would she be better served if she dropped to the ground to search? Below the fog, which rose over the cove? >Something cold, alive, touched her hand. Her heart pounded. An animal… She gasped, shrieked and tried to push the fearful beast away. When she felt the warm tongue lapping her face, she started to laugh and cry all at once. Grian. 'Tis you, love, is it not? Stay with me and we'll search together.
The dog hunkered down in the sand with his front paws spread out in front of him, wanting to play. Just as she was about to drop to her knees, a burly arm grasped her and pulled her into a rock-hard body.
What are you doing here? Bruic tightened his grip on her and the hound growled low in his throat. Hush, Grian. Didn't I tell you to warn everyone at the fort and stay there? I told you I would follow you up when I could, he muttered into her ear.
His tone was angry but his solid body offered comfort. Her back was to him. She kicked out in a backward motion, trying to loosen his hold on her. What you said is you'd be right behind me. She pivoted in his arms and looked at his face. When you didn't come back, I came here to check on…
A frown dotted his forehead. Did you miss me, lass? he questioned.
She could see the white of his teeth and knew he was smiling. Why of all the ridiculous…nerve. Miss you? She stomped on his booted foot. Afraid not. More like I didn't trust you and needed to see for myself what you might be up…
Bruic's laugh soared on the wind above the coarse sand of the beach, above the rocky ledges of the cove and out on the rolling waves of the ocean. It reverberated against the fog but rang true nonetheless. Ah, my delicious Kell. Predictable as always.
He continued to laugh for a moment more, but then stopped with suddenness she didn't expect. It was as if he sensed her displeasure and sought to stifle the harm his laughter would do.
There was something else in his laughter. Desperation, perhaps?
With seriousness, he exclaimed, Valdi has returned with my ship, but not the children…
Her hand went to his face in a soft gesture of comfort. Why didn't he bring them? Couldn't he get them released?
Bruic shook his head in response.
Where are they then?
No one knows. He sighed and rested his wounded arm around her shoulders. You have no cloak. Come, before you catch a chill in this mist. He called out in the Norse language. Men, after you secure the area, set up your tents. You'll be staying here to guard the ship. Only come to the fort in twos and threes. We'll send provisions down to you.
Then in Gaelic, he said, Valdi, Elva, and three of you men, follow me now. We repair to the fort for nourishment. He reached past Valdi, who had come to his side and had nodded to Kellach, and drew a young woman out from the crowd that had gathered slowly during his first burst of laughter. He slung his right arm around the other woman in a gentle motion and drew her closer. This is Elva. Our elf.
Kellach smiled down at the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen. The smile died quickly when Kellach realized the degree of beauty she faced. She drew in a long breath and let it out slowly as she studied the lovely person before her.
Long honey-colored hair covered the woman's shoulders and breasts in two thick braids, which hung to her waist. They were tied with colorful rust ribbons woven through them. Not a hair was out of place and the softest, rosiest complexion marked her face. Her tunic, made of the finest linen, was tinted with a bright splash of the same rusty color as the ribbons and served to enhance her beauty. Her figure was ample, lush, for such a dainty young girl, making Kellach feel far too tall and far too old
Elva, Bruic had called her, as if he had known her forever. A sharp stab of jealousy ran through Kellach, which she was unable to control. She had no idea why these feelings should travel through her with such rapidity she couldn't stop them. Who was this woman? What was she to Bruic?
>With little effort for one so recently ill, Bruic began the march back to the fort, moving the two women along with him. Valdi and three of the Norse seamen surrounded them, their blades drawn and ready. Grian followed the group, happily romping from one to another.
As far as Kellach could tell, Bruic seemed energized. He should have been totally dejected over the absence of his twins. Had this young woman, this Elva, fired up his spirit? Obviously, she had come from Dublin or somewhere, and on this very ship.
Why had Valdi brought her here?
To Bruic?
~*~
People crowded into the hall. Men pushed and shoved each other, trying to get closer in order to examine the strange new beauty that sat between Bruic and Morfinn on the dais. Ale flowed into everyone's tankards and mouths with great regularity. The clan bard, accompanied by harps, drums and the bellowing of many half-drunk men, sang the many legends of Gaelic kings and their valor.
Children raced about the hall in games of chase and catch. Toryn, Olwen's five-year-old son, did the most chasing and little of the catching. He ran about screeching, with Grian barking at him with every turn. Both were tripping over the adults in Toryn's efforts to catch some of the larger children.
Mothers managed to grab them on occasion to quiet them down, but immediately upon being released, they took up their games again. This time Grian joined them all. He shoved many of the children aside as he chased after them, barking wildly. The cacophony was enough to split eardrums.
Kellach had avoided Bruic from the moment he introduced Elva, pretending to want no explanation about the woman's sudden appearance in their midst. But wonder she did…and the wonder festered in her.
Bruic's gaze followed her wherever she went. It seemed like they had gone back to the days of their initial meeting. Kellach busied herself with serving ale to those who held out their tankards. She saw Lunn and Fergus talking with Valdi in an opposite corner, their extravagant gestures indicating they were telling one wild lie after another.
Before she knew it, someone grabbed her and put his mouth on hers. It was Ronan, drunker than usual. Knowing Bruic observed, she allowed the kiss to continue even though it revolted her. When finished with the kiss, Ronan, in great good humor, picked her up in his arms and whirled her around in a laughing embrace. My sweet, sweet, sweetling!
Beyond foolishness, Kellach, thoroughly amused, laughed with him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw furrows form on Bruic's brow. To enhance the moment, she gave Ronan a hug, something she had never done before, and felt the overly hearty squeeze back.
Put me down now, you silly goose. I have to tend to my duties or face the consequences.
You'll have nae consequences this night, my love. I will see to it. Ronan shouted with glee, before he whispered, Tonight is for celebrating our upcoming life together, sweetling.
Grian rounded on the two of them and growled at Ronan. He shook his finger at the dog, set Kellach on the ground next to him and grabbed for another mug of ale from a serving tray.
Bruic rose to address everyone. Everyone grew somber. The music and laughter ceased. Mothers grabbed their children. Both Lunn and Fergus signaled to others to be quiet. A hush fell over the crowd. Everyone looked to the tall man, who stood on the dais with great dignity and power.
I fell I should introduce the young lady who sits by my side and explain some things to all of you. Elva is a cousin to my late wife, who died giving birth to my twin sons.
As if by some magic thought, everyone turned at the same time to look at Kellach. She kept her eyes focused on the ground as if she were listening intently. Olwen came over to her and put a comforting hand on her arm.
Bruic continued as if there had been no interruption in his speech. You must be told the truth. My sons are being held hostage somewhere in Dublin. I sent Valdi, the captain of my ships, there to find word of them. There was little to be learned other than the fact, an unknown person must have taken them to a new, unknown location.
Olwen moaned and clutched Toryn to her round stomach. Kellach's head bobbed up, and she stared at Bruic across the room. Most of the Gaels, who lived for their children, murmured in sympathy. They could bear all losses but the loss of their progeny.
In the course of Valdi's search, he came upon Elva, who had been hiding from the Norse. Earlier, in the hopes of locating the children, she took work as a serving girl in a Norse household, but they treated her poorly. Valdi brought her here to be with all of us rather than leave her to fend for herself in a city at war. I would hope you'll treat her with the respect and dignity she deserves.
Bruic sat down abruptly. He, obviously, had no more to say. Exhaustion had taken its toll. The hardship of the day showed in every aspect of his face. The weariness and worry in his expression told the full story of his despair over the loss of his children. He leaned on one elbow and stared at the floor.
Kellach noticed a trickle of red stain his outer tunic and started forward. Both Olwen and Elva saw it at the same time. Olwen moved forward with Kellach and squeezed her hand. Elva touched Bruic's arm and whispered something in his ear. When he responded, she stood like a glorious princess and beckoned to Kellach to come forward.
Stung by the harshness of the singular gesture, which made her feel like a servant instead of the queen she actually was, Kell crossed the hall to the dais and stood waiting for the next order. She was alarmed by the strength of her opposing feelings, one of pity for Bruic's discomfort and the other of anger by Elva's imperious attitude. In situations like this, words were not her specialty, so she held them in.
Bruic looked down at her, resignation in his declaration. I bleed again, he said, and would have you tend me.
Aye, she answered. Go to the hut. I will tend you there.
When Bruic stood, everyone again grew quiet. He said, Go on with your celebrations. I am a trifle weary and am bleeding a bit, but that is no reason for you to stop. Kellach will see to my wound. He stepped off the dais and walked across the hall, stopping frequently to respond to good wishes sent in his direction.
Morfinn stood next. He looked down at Kellach. Go to him, lass. See to his welfare. Then, in private words said behind his hand, he mocked, I would not see him suffer so much from such a small wound.
Aye, milord Morfinn. I do as you wish, she said with a sneer.
I go, too. With you, no? Elva asked.
Not able to refuse her, Kellach nodded. Come, if you like, she said, marching toward the door. She didn't look behind her but sensed that Elva followed.
Olwen called out to her. Kell, I may go to the garden and get some fresh herbs for Bruic. I will be here after if you need me.
Kellach turned swiftly to answer Olwen but nodded instead.
Elva bumped into her. I'm sorry. So sorry. She stepped aside and let Kellach go before her.
Kellach stamped across the yard without a word, knowing she was behaving badly. Grian paced alongside of her. How could she talk to this woman who seemed to have come and disrupted her whole life? What life? She wondered how much Elva's arrival was going to change the camaraderie she and Bruic had begun to develop over the past weeks.
~*~
Within an hour, Kellach had Bruic's wound cleansed and packed with her healing medicines. She was ready to go to sleep, but Elva had fallen asleep on her pallet, exhausted, no doubt. With a grand sigh to relieve her tensions, Kellach struggled to find a comfortable spot on the long bench in the front room, so she could hear Bruic should he call out in pain during the night.
She threw furs over the bench and piled several under her head. Still, she tossed and turned, fearful of being drawn into one of her nightmares. The hound lay halfway under the bench. His snores filled the room.
Just as she was falling asleep, she thought she heard the patter of tiny feet. Grian growled. A small hand touched her shoulder and shook her.
Wha…what is it? She leaped to her feet, tripped over the dog and fell to the floor. What is going on?
Kell. How come you're sleeping on the bench? Out here? Are you mad at the Badger-man?
Toryn, you scared the day's light from me body. What are you doing here at this hour? You should be asleep in your bed.
Ummmm…
Cough it out, child. 'Tis cold and tired I am.
Lunn sent me. He told me to fetch you with…I forgot.
If he sent you, he must mean I should get my medicines. What happened? Did those fools in the hall start a battle for supremacy?
Toryn looked up at her, his childish cheeks pale in the moonlight. Huh?
All right. Sit you down, child. When he was sitting firmly on the bench, Kellach stared at him. Now tell me. Lunn sent you to fetch me. Why?
Oh, aye. I think me mam had a sore stomach. Fergus picked her up off the floor and he carried her home. That's when Lunn said I was to run and fetch ye.
Kellach ran to the door of the hut and peered into the darkness outside. She caught a brief glimpse of Fergus in the moonlight, carrying something and walking toward the clan huts. Lunn walked behind. The child! It must be Olwen's time.
Toryn, you stay very quiet now. I'm going into the other room to gather some things. I'll be right back. You wait for me. Stay here with Grian, Kellach whispered before hurrying into the other room.
In a single motion, she swept several of her gowns and tunics from the wooden pegs on the way. Refusing to look at the man sprawled on the bed, she grabbed her medicine basket from the corner table and tiptoed from the room.
She held the basket in one hand but, when she passed the bench, she scooped Toryn onto her waist and let him hang his legs around her. Nary a sound. Now, open the door quietly. Come, Grian.
Toryn laid his head on her shoulder. I'm tired, Kell. His head popped up. I ran a lot. Fast, too.
I know you did, darling. I watched your wee legs a-pumping up a storm. You were the fastest five-year-old in the hall.
Toryn giggled. I was, wasn't I?
Now that she was a ways from her hut, Kellach laughed aloud. You certainly were, she said, tromping across the yard to the huts.
Bridie met her halfway. Let me take the child, milady Kell. He's a mite heavy and you have the basket to contend with. And that hound under your feet to trip you up if yer nae wise to his shuffling about.
Toryn clutched her neck tighter.
Toryn, you're strangling me. Let up.
I want you to carry me, he said in a whiny voice.
Kellach smiled down at the shorter Bridie. I think he knows what sort of event this is to be this night. He only wants the comfort of knowing he won't be forgotten in the rush to help his mam...
Bridie nodded and seemed to want to back away; Kellach held out the basket. I would be most grateful if you took the basket. 'Tis a bit heavy on my arms, what with all the clothes I stuffed into it.
Are you planning to stay with Olwen then? Bridie questioned as she hefted the heavy basket onto her arm and held it underneath with her free hand. Did you have a fight with the master?
Nae. No fight. He has companionship right now and someone to wait on him. I'm no longer needed by him, and I am by Olwen.
Can I speak my mind, milady?
Aye, Bridie, but before you do, let me apologize yet again for me poor mouth of past days. I see that you and Arne get along well together, and he treats your children as if they were the seed from his own body. Kellach shifted Toryn to her other side. She hadn't realized how sturdy he'd gotten in the last few months. She looked at his sweet face with affection. He was sound asleep, his head nestled between her shoulder and her chin
Without turning her head, she told Bridie. Speak your mind, lass.
Fine. 'Tis not what you might like to hear, but I think the big man cares for you. His very eyes travel after you, no matter in which direction you go. Bridie stated with much deference.
He's just afraid I'll scoot off somewhere and do him in. Grian, do you have to walk so close? Tripping me up, you are. The Badger thinks I plot against him and his Norse. He feels safer when he knows exactly where I am. Even as she said it, she wondered if it were a false statement or really fact.
His staring had irritated her on many occasions, but she always thought it was because he suspected her of the double-dealing she was, in truth, doing-spying on him for Morfinn. As yet, he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary.
His search for Padrik's killer and for the slayers of the cattle were the only times he'd left the fort. What with the repairs and his wound, he hadn't had time to do anything else, much less locate large harbors for seaports.
What could she tell Morfinn? She sighed. No matter what she told Morfinn, he wouldn't believe her anyway. She needed to think of something to send his attention onto another track.
I'm sorry, Bridie. Lost into me own thoughts, I was, when I should be concentrating on birthing the new babe. Let's pick up our pace. I'd appreciate it if you stayed with me to help. Just in case there's something gone amiss.
'Tis not a problem, milady. 'Tis sure happy I am that you asked.
The two women came to the door of the hut. Bridie stepped aside to let Kellach enter first. Several small candles reflected off the rocky walls and lit the way inside. She could see Olwen on the bed and Fergus sitting beside her, holding her hand. She thought that odd.
Lunn came out of the shadows and took Toryn from her, very gently. I'll tuck him under his furs.
Bridie came in and put the basket on a counter; then she tried to push the dog out the door. Grian neither growled nor moved, until the woman could do nothing but laugh in an embarrassed fashion.
Lunn said, Let him stay. He'll just curl up into a corner and sleep.
No sooner were the words out of Lunn's mouth, than the dog grunted and leaped up onto Toryn's bed. He pawed the fur to make a spot for himself and then stretched out next to the boy. Within seconds, they both slept.
Lunn crossed the room to the small bed. Get out of there, you mangy mutt. Ye'll not be sleeping with the wee one, if I have anything to do with it.
Olwen groaned and called out from the bed. Leave him be, Lunn. He's slept there before and no harm's come to Toryn.
Fergus patted her hand and said, Be easy, lass. No harm will come to ye, or the boy, or the dog. Do not fret yerself.
Kellach watched the soothing action and wondered what it meant for Olwen's future. She had no time to worry over it. She looked around and saw that there was sufficient water for their needs. She shuffled the men out of the hut with a quick Bring more warm water.
She left the dog to guard the boy and turned to Bridie. We'd best get started. Olwen, darling, don't worry. We'll have you put to rights in no time at all.
Chapter Fifteen
>A storm surfaced shortly before dawn and seemed to strengthen as time progressed. As if reluctant to appear, morning came slowly, and with it more thunder and lightning. By noon, Kellach held a beautiful baby girl in her arms. The tiny creature had tiny wisps of light hair on her head and a rosy-colored face. The dainty hands and feet were in the proper place and in good working order as were the healthy lungs.
The babe had been bathed, swaddled and was now wailing a hungry tune. She handed the babe to a tired Olwen, who put the child to her breast and held it gently. Kellach shifted some of the bed furs up around them both.
After spending the night outside under the hut's woven eaves, Fergus appeared to escort Toryn and the hound to the fort for the day. He kissed Olwen's forehead and patted her shoulder. Well done, milady. 'Tis a most beautiful babe ye've produced. His eyes were focused on Olwen, so he never noticed the shocked, open-mouthed expression on Kellach's face.
He grabbed a short cloak from a peg and tossed it over Toryn's shoulders before taking his hand to lead him outside. Turning for one last look at Olwen, he said, Grian, come… and moved through the doorway. He stood outside in the rain, lifted Toryn and waited for the dog to scamper after them. He and the dog ran through the rain, dodging puddles.
Kellach closed the door behind them. She didn't want to the wind to chill either the baby or Olwen. She began to tidy up the hut, putting all her medicines back in the basket. She mumbled, almost to herself, I certainly didn't know the way of it between you and Fergus. How long has this been going on?
With her free hand, Olwen patted the bed and said in a weakened voice, I would have you sit with me.
Kellach raised her eyebrows then smiled down at her friend. Aren't you too tired for company, love? she asked, looking over at Bridie, whose arms were wrapped around a fur as she dozed on Toryn's bed, after being up half the night.
Nae, Olwen said. I slept for bits throughout. I would talk with ye before I sleep again. There is something I must tell ye, something ye should know.
I don't want you to talk too much. I know you're exhausted and should rest, but I will sit for a moment. Now, what seems to be troubling you?
Me mind is not troubled. And to ease yers, let me tell ye I was attracted to that burly, redheaded Gael from the moment I saw him. But what could I do about it? I had one child and was pregnant with another, about to birth. It didn't seem to bother that sweet man. He treated me just fine and has treated Toryn as if he were from his very own seed.
Why hadn't I noticed any of this? Kellach asked, before chuckling a bit.
Ye were too busy with yer own problems, and I want to talk to ye about those. But I hope ye do not mind me interest in that wondrous man, Bruic.
Nae, my dear friend, I wish you well in all things. 'Tis only love I have for you, for your support over the years and your undying devotion to me, no matter the circumstance.
And 'twill always be so. But 'tis another problem has bothered me for weeks. I only remembered to speak about it last night, during my struggles. Olwen closed her eyes and murmured, This babe is surely hungry.
Kellach brushed her hand over the baby's head. She has your soft, downy hair, like a wee puffin bird.
Aye, she does, Olwen agreed. Bridie snorted in her sleep, clutching the fur tighter around her ample body. It was as if she had concurred with the idea.
Kellach thought about her last year of retirement from all society. Olwen fought with her father, Iomar, to go against Morfinn's wishes to marry Kellach with yet another of his kinsmen. Olwen's stubbornness forced Iomar and the elders to refuse Morfinn's last bid. When Iomar could no longer stand the constant harassment from his over-king, he married her himself. Within moments after the ceremony, Iomar left to do Morfinn's bidding against the Danes in Dublin. Even when her father died and new word of the Druid's curse flared up, Olwen had stood against everyone's wishes to discontinue her childhood relationship with Kellach.
To this day, Kellach wondered what, in truth, happened to Iomar so soon after he left the clan with a force of warriors. And, perhaps even more important, what happened to Olwen's husband when he left to find his wife's father. Neither ever returned to Dun Geata. Kellach's uncontrolled sigh was long and wistful.
Olwen's hand patted her arm. Kell?
'Tis naught but my memories. Don't fret yourself. I don't want you to be thinking my mood is over Fergus and you. He's a good man and I wish you both well. It seems to me you both deserve a chance at happiness, no matter how slim it may be. She smiled down at Olwen and the nursing babe. What a peaceful sight they were!
Kell, 'tis about the big man I must speak. Remember our many discussions concerning him?
Some. I am nae so bitter any longer. I've come to accept his being here. He has done much for our people. I even think Iomar might have welcomed him.
Aye, me Da would have thought him a worthy man. Olwen stared at the babe for a moment. He would have married ye to Bruic. Ye know that, don't ye?
Nae, he would never marry me to one I refused, especially with the curse I had hanging over my head. You saw what it did to your Da. Killed him, it did, along with all those others.
I don't believe that. Morfinn somehow arranged to kill my Da, and then me husband. 'Tis sure of it, I am. I would warn ye against the man, even though he be our over-king.
Kellach sighed again. I don't trust him now. No more than I ever did, nor will I ever marry again at his insistence. Or otherwise, for that matter. My future is set with the clan. What happens to them will happen to me.
The babe had finished and now lay against her mother's breast, sleeping the sleep of the innocent. Olwen shifted her position and gathered the babe in the crook of one arm, her tiny head resting on Olwen's shoulder. She repositioned the cloths covering the baby and began rubbing her back gently. I must tell you of me memories. Perhaps, when I tell ye, all yer worries will change for the better.
Remembrances will not change my status in life. I will never have what you have. I am content and no longer want the sort of life I once envisioned when a lass.
Ye're telling a falsehood, Kell. You were made to have kin and family and babies. You were not made to live alone on this earth, lost in a sea of thinking only of others with each and every breath.
Puzzled, Kellach sat up straighter and gathered herself together. She cocked her head and looked at Olwen suspiciously. Olwen, say whatever it is that makes you uneasy or afraid to tell.
Remember I told you the Badger looked familiar? I've studied him of late as I studied him long ago-when you were in the throes of yer first and worst problem. Kellach sucked in a breath but Olwen continued, Think back to the beach. I would not ask this of ye, knowing yer pain, but there's something you must realize. Close yer eyes to the light. Think back to that most horrid of days. Remember the sights, the sounds…the shrieking of the birds…the laughter of the men in the next cove. What stands out in yer mind?
Kellach gagged but did as she was asked. Her eyes closed slowly. She kept them forced together by sheer will in order to search her memory. Fear swelled up inside her. The death…the destruction of all that I loved…the blood, so red…the man with a patch over his eye…another man, or was it a boy, almost full into his growth?
Aye. That's it. It were a boy, darling, a big, tall, overgrown boy…
Kellach leaped from the bed and smacked into Bridie, who had awakened and now stood close, listening. Obviously, she hadn't wanted to miss anything. She reached out and caught Kellach's elbow to steady her. Milady…
Kellach yanked her arm away. She couldn't stand to be touched right now. What are you suggesting? she shrieked in agony. What is it you're trying to tell me? Her knees buckled and she slid to the floor.
Bridie helped her up with strong arms. Hsst, milady. Do not fret yerself. Nothing that happened that day can happen now. 'Tis naught but a remembering. She patted Kellach's back. Olwen, do not upset her more. Tell her whatever it is she needs to know.
In abject misery, Kellach leaned against Bridie. Aye. I'm aware of what you're trying to say. But you tell me. What it is you want me to know?
I don't remember the voice. I wasn't close enough to hear him but I stared at him long enough that day at the beach to fasten him into me memory. The young boy, God help us…the boy was Bruic.
Again, Kellach's knees went out from under her.
Bridie lifted Kellach onto Olwen's bed, forcing her down on it. She stood next to her to support her upper body. Sit, lass. I'll hold ye steady so ye cannot fall.
Kellach looked from Bridie to Olwen. They seemed hazy, far away. She spoke them in a deadened voice. Aye. Ye're right, Olwen. He was there. Always, he has seemed so familiar. I never realized why. His hair is darker now. His voice is much deeper, fuller, but 'tis the same person. Bruic. I vaguely remember them calling to him.
Sobs broke from her mouth. Her body shook. Her face turned to the side, and she wept bitter tears into Bridie's tunic. Her heart rate outpaced her sobs. She gasped for air. She couldn't stop the tumult racing through her. Through sobs and choking sounds, she said, He…was…there…at the beach. Bruic…was there. He saw…them…kill everyone…and…take my mother away.
Her eyes flooded, Bridie dropped to her knees, held Kellach close and patted her back again, harder than she had before. Tears spilled from Olwen's eyes. She held her baby closer with her lips on its forehead. The baby slept, unaware of the momentous events transpiring.
Kellach hiccupped several times, almost to the point of retching. She managed to get herself under control by taking in deep breaths of air. With a shaky voice, she said, I must tell you more. He has known my mam throughout the years she's been away. To hear him talk, she's been his friend.
Olwen, a bit breathy, said, I'm glad. Did he care for her during those years, see to her comfort?
Aye. I believe they stood together in Gaelic ways and against the Norse somehow. In secret, I'm sure. She hesitated, unwilling to tell more but unable to hide it from her friend. Olwen. My mam's alive. I have two brothers living in the Northern Isles and two sisters, I think. But it's my mam. She's somewhere here, hidden, in Gael.
Olwen sat up quickly, almost dropping the baby. Then ye'll go to her. I am so happy for ye. 'Tis what ye've always wanted. To find her.
I can't. Bruic made a promise to her. He will not tell me where she is, but I will find her somehow…
The door flew open with a crash. Bruic tore into the house, in a rage. He stared only at Kellach, shouting, Where have you been? I did not give you permission to leave my home, to sit and gossip with your friends. You have left your duties to others, who have no need to pick up after a slave. He stood, his hands on his hips, anger clearly written on his face. Are you intending to disobey me and ignore my presence?
Kellach's anger rose to meet his, instantaneous and complete. She stood, steadier than she had been moments earlier. She matched him sound for sound in the battle of words, loud and louder. I have been doing your work, oh master, the work of this clan, she shrieked.
Their shouting woke the baby, who started a screaming of its own. Olwen cuddled her closer, her hands over the baby's ears.
Bruic stopped instantly, his mouth agape, his face red. He moved one hand forward, in supplication and apology to Olwen and the babe. His other hand stayed in a fist, next to his hip.
Her tone somewhat softened, Kellach continued, Olwen has a new daughter. Your affairs, milord, concerned me enough to see to its birth, not that I wouldn't have even if you were not here. Besides, I left you with your new beloved. You can take her to see my mother, whom she probably already knows. It seems every one of you Norse knows the woman who means more to me than life itself… Her breath was gone.
Kellach pushed by him and flew out the open doorway into the rain. Without any covering for her body but an old shawl, which she tossed over her head, she ran across the fields, directly toward the fort. It was about time she took care of things for herself.
She'd find her mother herself-or die…
~*~
Angry at her previous inability to take charge of her life, Kellach stomped into the main hall of the fort. She scanned the room, surprised to see everyone in the process of backing away from her. Her gaze fell on Morfinn.
You, Morfinn. I would have speech with you. She nodded toward the doorway. In the kitchen shed. Now.
In a single fluid motion, she spun around and marched back up the way she had come in. Once out the door, she veered to the left and ran around the fort, until she got to the cooking shed, where the women busy preparing for the evening meal peered at her anxiously.
One who looked enough like her to be a relative questioned, Milady? The woman's eyes were wide in surprise.
Flustered by her ungraceful dash into the room, Kellach sputtered. Are you managing all right…without Olwen here to guide you? she asked, with distinct disinterest in the reply.
The women stared at her with puzzlement displayed on their faces. Bridie, who had made her way to the kitchen only moments earlier, came forward hesitantly. Milady? Ye did not sleep much of last evening, or yesterday. Are ye with us here or are ye tired beyond yerself?
Kellach frowned. Before turning to answer Bridie, she considered what she might say to Morfinn-after ordering him about in front of everyone. She was sorely distracted and nothing of importance came to mind with any clarity. She raised her hand to the women as if she were about to say something of importance, but her mouth never changed from its tight-lipped closure. Her hand dropped to her side in a sudden fall.
The women looked from one to another. Some were about to speak until Kellach held up her hand, staying conversation. She couldn't stand to listen to what might be unimportant. Now that Olwen and her new babe were safe and sound, all Kellach's thoughts centered on her mother and the terrible need for her.
Morfinn strolled through the open area of the shed and slowly pushed the door to the kitchen area open further. Out, he exclaimed, gesturing to the women surrounding Kellach.
Bridie looked at him and then at the others. But…
Out, I said. I'll not be saying it again, not to any of ye. I'll call my guards if 'tis necessary to clear this place. One of his bony fingers pointed to the outdoors.
In less than a minute the room emptied of all but Kellach. Morfinn signaled his men to hustle the women farther way. Only Bridie seemed to hang back, not happy to leave her mistress alone. A guard grabbed her upper arm, squeezed it and dragged her away.
Morfinn watched until the guard and woman disappeared around the corner. Only then did he turn to glare at Kellach. Ye called me out from the hall. Embarrassed yer king with your short temper, in front of all the men. What do ye have to say for yerself, woman?
Morfinn usually made her feel like an unschooled lass. She would have none of it this day. He had to find her mother for her. She would promise him anything. Well, I…
Aye? He paused. Well, lass, has a rabbit run off to the woods with yer fat clacking tongue? Can ye no' speak to me like a grown woman? Or do ye have to be so angry at something ye blurt things out like a child?
Her body grew warm and she knew her face was flushed with the power of the heat. How was she to answer him? Like she always did? Honestly. Unable to control herself, she tossed words out. My mam lives…
Morfinn took a step back as if he were studying her. Aye, so I've heard.
And you never said a word to me? she asked, her anger beginning to rise with his admission.
Morfinn treated her anger as not worthy of his notice. He spoke to her calmly but made every word quite precise. When I arrived, ye ducked out of the fort yard and ran down the road for some reason unbeknownst to me. When ye returned, ye moped around the hall clutching yer ewer of ale to yer bosom. Ye spent yer time filing the mugs of the Norse swine until ye rushed off to take care of the Badger, like the good little slavey ye are. I've seen nothing of ye since, 'til now, that is.
His words, so measured and deliberate, made her feel stupid and she answered him in the only way she knew how. She stammered, I was birthing… Olwen had her babe-a wee lass, as lovely as her mother. The very word stuck a chord in Kellach heart, which began to beat unevenly. That's what I wanted to talk to you about. My mother.
It seems to me that ye've gone about such talk in a childish and callused way. But speak yer mind. Morfinn moved languidly to one of the high tables, leaned against it and studied his filthy fingernails. Slowly, with total unconcern, he removed his dagger from its nesting place in his waist sash and proceeded to clean under each nail with infinitesimal care. Well? he asked without looking up.
Kellach wanted to hit him. To beat his head against the nearest wall, but she knew it would be to no avail. His guards, many of whom wandered about the fort, had returned closer to the shed. They would rush to his defense.
My mother is alive. She's here, somewhere on this island.
So I have heard. His amusement high, he laughed at his own repetition. Of course, I was never sure she had gone anywhere, anyway. I thought her disappearance was, perhaps, to run away from her responsibilities to her cursed daughter.
Nae. She'd not do that. 'Tis sure of it, I am. Her leaving was the first indication of the Dark Druid's powers. She gathered herself under a tight control, hating to say the next thing. I don't know how to find her, milord. Nor do I think I can sneak away from Bruic. He watches me so closely.
Ah, 'tis Bruic now, is it?
He insists I call him by his rightful name.
And what have ye found out about his plans, to help Ronan and me with our cause for our country?
Very little.
I do not believe that. A woman who gives herself to a man always learns something, Morfinn said, a nasty leer on his face.
I have not given myself to him or any man. Ronan himself knows that.
Really? Ronan knows nothing about ye, much less how to treat ye. He watched intently to gauge her reactions. What do ye want of me, Kellach? Ye know I would do anything to help ye if I could. So would Ronan. He dances attendance on ye with his very best nature.
Find my mother is all I ask.
Well, ye must give me something to help me understand. How did ye find out she was here, in this country?
When Bruic was wounded in a foray with those who butchered our cattle, he cried out in his unconscious fevered state. He cried Alma, Alma.
Morfinn laughed as if she had amused him greatly. With a chuckle low down in his throat, and again acting as if she were stupid, he exclaimed, There is more than one Alma in this world. What made ye think such an utterance were about yer mam?
I questioned him after he had recovered enough. He admitted he knew of her. She had been a slave to his Norse master. Kellach took a deep breath. He said he had brought her back here to Gael himself, in secret. On one of his ships. She stared at the floor, wondering what promise Morfinn might try to dig out of her now.
Why didn't ye send for me immediately? Or Ronan?
I made this discovery just before you arrived but have had no chance to tell you. Kellach shook her head and turned to move away. Why do I bother? You'll do nothing for me. You never…
Morfinn moved after her more quickly than expected. He grabbed her wrist in a vise-like grip and held her secure. Why run off, lass? Ye know I will try to help ye, as I have always done to the best of me abilities. I know how long ye have grieved over the loss of yer mother, but…
Kellach's body grew still. She looked him square in the eyes as she judged the evasive expression on his face. The way he stood, staring. He'd help her…but would hold something over her head, force her to participate in one of his unlawful schemes.
But what? she asked in trepidation.
I would have ye marry me Ronan. Me own sons have died in one battle or another. The last with Iomar and his men. His eyes bore into her. Ronan must marry and produce heirs for me kingdom. The stupid fool wants only ye.
To turn Morfinn's thoughts in another direction without answering, she said, I cannot marry until my mother removes the Druid's curse.
'Tis no curse. 'Tis just an old women's tale, probably meant to keep ye chaste until ye're wed to a proper man.
Kellach smiled, knowing it was more of a grimace than a smile. And that proper man is Ronan?
Aye. It's me condition, I find yer mother, ye marry Ronan.
So many men before him have died. Four, to be exact. Nothing comes of my alliances but death. Tell that to your Ronan. He might think differently about the subject.
Morfinn smiled in response to her challenge. Aye. I'll do that. And now, I'm finished speaking with ye. We'll discuss the circumstances at greater length another time. Send Ronan to me, here.
Where the two of you can conspire against me again, as you did a month ago? she grumbled on her way out the door. Aye, she mumbled to herself. I wonder what more the two of you can think of to do to me.
Chapter Sixteen
>Ronan approached the cooking shed with reluctance. He had no desire to converse with his stepfather. He usually came out as the lowly one in their discussions, following in the king's footpath like a dog and his instructions to the letter. Again, it would make Roan seem small in the process.
Besides, Ronan had other things on his mind. Less than a week before, disgusted and angry, he watched the king strike his mother, not for the first time, but hopefully the last. This time Ronan had spoken up, although his stepfather seemed to care little.
The abusive behavior exhibited by Morfinn throughout the years, progressing from the day Ronan's mother married the man, had colored Ronan's whole life, leaving him resentful, often unable to control his own temper when crossed. The two appeared to have similar leanings, but the stepson no longer had affectionate regard for his stepfather-a man Ronan had worshiped once, during his first days in the clan, and chosen to emulate in his youthful years.
Just as he stepped into the cooking shed, the sun broke through the clouds, prodding Ronan to lighten his spirits. You sent for me, did you? he asked, trying to be genial but still smarting from watching the recent beating of his mother, the most foul cruelty.
Och, that I did, and ye've brought the sun with ye. How fortuitous. Morfinn's thin lips parted in a yellow grin, matching his stepson's, sly, resentful and unforgiving.
'Tis sure I am you're not wanting to talk about the weather or patter on like a serving girl.
Right. I want to speak to ye, and ye alone, about some new information and developments in our lives. I think we're both about to get some of the things we've only hoped for. Especially ye…
How come I think something's wrong with this? Is it because you've got a sly look on yer royal puss? he asked grimly, used to his stepfather's way of over dramatizing. He tried a smile again. Well, get on with it then. Tell me of your newest plans.
Do ye still want Kellach to wife?
Aye, you know I do. Ronan cocked his head to one side, wondering what his stepfather, the shifty-eyed rogue, might be up to this time.
I think I've found a way ye can live yer dreams. With an easy chore for the likes of us. And she'd be the reward.
Your chores are never easy. What would you have me do? Ronan grinned, knowing he would listen carefully to whatever might make Kellach his. And what of the curse on the lass?
Morfinn looked around him, jogged to the door and scanned the area outside. He waved him men farther away and when satisfied, he drew Ronan to an empty corner, hunkered down and began to whisper with his hand covering his mouth.
Tell no one what I am about to say to ye. Years ago, not long after the death of the former over-king of me clan and his wife, the clan struggled for survival. The elders of the day and I, as the new over-king, wanted Alma's wealth. I asked for her. She refused. When the men from the Northern Isles supposedly took her, I thought it served her right. Still, they left a wee lass with no one to care for her but the warrior, Lunn the Strong.
I know all this, or so you have told me. Finish quickly. I would get back to my enjoyments in the hall.
We approached Iomar the Archer to join our clans together. He refused but offered up the orphaned Kellach as a way of keeping his autonomy, and so there would be no battles. Our clan had her married at six to my young nephew. The lad sickened within days and died. His mother blamed it on Kell. She started a rumor that Kell was cursed by the wee folks.
Ronan looked at his stepfather. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and nodded to his stepfather to go on.
Taking into account her mother's strange disappearance from the cove where all the others were killed outright and adding the death of the young boy, Kellach's first husband, I raised the stakes. In a speech to the clans, I proclaimed her cursed by the Dark Druids, making the curse more deadly.
Ronan's eyes narrowed. His stepfather had spoken the words that damned Kell to a life of unhappiness. How evil was this man? But you married her off to another of your kin soon after. How did you manage that?
People forgot the curse by then. I had to do something. Morfinn's face turned pale. With pursed lips and a supplicating gesture to Ronan, he resumed the story.
Me clan was poor, easily savaged by others more powerful. Still insisting on a marriage for her, me elders were afraid if she got to the ceremonies at Tara, where all of Gael competed, we'd lose her wealth to some other clan. The old man we married her to was ill and close to death. When he died, we accused her of further devilment and heaped more stories onto the one about the Druid's curse. We sent her back to Dun Geata in disgrace but kept some of her riches. There was nothing Iomar or Lunn could do about it.
I see. You reinvented the curse? Ronan barely noticed what was happening outside, although he heard the Badger's voice shouting something. Ronan pressed Morfinn further. And the warrior she married at eighteen?
It was neither any of me doing, nor did it fit into me plans. I had to compensate for that problem.
But I'll bet his dying was the final bit of compensation.
Aye. As a marriage gift, I gave him a horse. He's the one who insisted on a celebratory hunt, immediately after the wedding ceremony.
I know. I was on that hunt. Remember, one of your sons and I brought down a large red stag.
I remember the day. Morfinn looked up at him, then straightened and stretched. I remember thinking earlier, something had to be done to rid her of this husband.
Aye. What did you do?
I had men in the woods. They saw that he broke his neck, accidentally. They brought him back into the compound, slung over the animal I'd given him. Everyone was in a state of shock. I pointed to Kell. She stood off to one side, tears spilling down her cheeks. I pointed and proclaimed her cursed beyond measure.
Ronan groaned. Lord, I knew you were evil. I never realized how very evil you were.
He moved to the door and faced the sea, hoping the noise of it would drown out the sound of his stepfather's foul words.
Morfinn's voice softened. Even then I knew ye were in love with her. Ye looked the hound dog the whole day of the wedding. I thought she'd be safe for a few years, what with everyone considering the curse and all. Ye would have been the brave man, the hero, who married her despite her affliction. How could I know Iomar of Dun Geata, a man who had acted as her protector, would insist on her hand in legal marriage? I needed him then.
Didn't you warn him about the curse, call him a fool-anything?
Iomar didn't believe in the curse. He felt sorry for the lass ever since her mother was taken from her, and, thinking to offer her a home, he himself had set her on the path of marriages to me clan. Finally, he made a mistake. He married her to save her, to save her from me.
And right he was to do so.
I saw to it that he accompanied me men in a raid on the Danes at Waterford. As you know, he never returned.
Why does that not surprise me? Ronan murmured, his stomach churning from the sour words.
Morfinn came closer and put a wrinkled hand on his arm. Kell became more cursed when her affliction took the lord and master of Dun Geata. The same people who lived through her transformations addressed her as the Black Bride. He stepped to murmur in Ronan's ear, The Cursed Bride of Corca Dhuibhne.
When Ronan whirled around, Morfinn stepped back and shouted, I've done all of this for ye, me son!
Tears slid from Morfinn's eyes and fell over his thin, dusty cheekbones into his dirty white beard. Ronan was unimpressed. He'd seen his stepfather pull this same tearful act any number of times, each time he hit Ronan's mother.
Have ye nae sympathy for the man what raised ye? Morfinn questioned with a slight whine of martyrdom. His words stood, hovering in the air.
Ronan looked down at him, his face a mass of frowns. What is it you would have me do, old man?
We must find her mother. The lass believes only her mother can remove the curse.
And how do you intend we do that? Sail to the Northern Isles and take her by force from the Norsemen?
Nae. The lass just told me her mother was here. On this island.
In Gael? How would Kell be knowing that?
The Badger. He called out her mother's name when he was laid low with his wound. It seems he knew her in the Northern Isles and she sailed with him when he came with Olaf.
Then where is she now? This Alma…
The Badger wouldn't tell Kellach.
That gave Ronan a moment of puzzlement. Why not?
Some promise or another to the woman, Morfinn said.
Suppose, for the sake of argument, all Morfinn's jumbled ideas spelled out the truth? Ronan had too much to think about. His mind almost overflowed-except for the main thought.
Do you think Kell will marry me, if we find her mother?
She'd do anything to find her mother. She will agree to it, I'm sure. If she doesn't, we won't even search. Happy at last, Morfinn laughed and cackled so loudly the sound startled his guards. Several came running to the shed. He waved them off. How to accomplish all this is the present problem.
Ronan frowned as he pondered the situation. The Badger would never let us take Kell from here. And I don't want to leave her with him.
An evil grin fell over Morfinn's face. Then there is only one solution. We have to get rid of the Badger first.
Ronan shook his head. And exactly how do you intend to do that?
We'll just have to consider that and think on it a bit more, he said, as Ronan and he left the cooking area, exchanging conspiratorial glances of agreement.
~*~
In the morning, An Dun Geata buzzed with activity. With a break of good, dry weather, the yard, the walls and the fields teemed with people doing chores. Bruic wandered the different work sites to greet everyone and to offer compliments on their progress. The Gaels responded with waves and bits of song, the Norse with tips of their heads or short conversations.
Bruic smiled at them all, satisfied with the improvements for the clan and glad to see the happy, smiling faces. He looked for Kellach in each group and, when he didn't find her, his temper turned blacker than the blackest of clouds before a storm.
In the afternoon, a glorious sun mocked his dark mood as he strode across the yard with bold assurance, his stride quickening with each footstep. He leaped over a low fence and stomped his way through the rich grasses of the first pasture, pushing livestock out of his way with gentle but firm shoves. In the next field, his steps slowed, became shorter, until they all but stopped in front of Olwen's home.
Tales of the beauty of her new baby had reached his ears from every corner of the compound and from every person who had visited the hut since the birth. Yet, the one person he wanted to hear it from had neither seen fit to tell him about the incident nor to show herself anywhere within his travels. He needed the sight of Kellach the way the earth needed the kiss of the sun but an admission he missed her presence was out of the question.
It no longer seemed important to him she completed the duties he had heaped upon her. What bad thing had he done to make her stay away from him for so many days and nights? Internal anguish and anger fought within and discomfited him. At the same time, it filled him with a sense of righteous virtue and naïve pride. Even though thinking the separation might be due to Elva's arrival, he had had enough of Kellach's high-handed nonsense.
He raised his fist to pound on the door to the hut but lowered it, looking around the area before turning in a circle. Pounding on Olwen's door would do no good.
What he needed to do was to gather himself together, show only a mild interest in Kellach's whereabouts and hide his annoyance. He stood by the door, an unnatural stillness surrounding him. His blood ran cold through icier veins. He took a deep breath. Anything to keep his temper from exploding.
High-pitched giggles floated out from inside and assailed his ears, then a slight hiccupping wail from the new baby. The sounds were ordered and specific, magnified by his unwanted desire to gaze upon Kellach. Fragmented thoughts pummeled him. He was furious, filled with pain and far too warm. His composure was almost gone. Tingling life came to the nerves he had held down in his usual controlled manner.
In brisk, emotionless movements, he vented his frustration with rapid slaps on the door. He nudged it open and stepped in, giving the people inside the dim hut a glare designed to unsettle them. The first thing to greet his eyes was Kellach's face, frozen for an instant at the sight of him. Regret darkened her eyes.
The next thing he noticed was Fergus sitting on a chair, holding Olwen's hand and patting it. Her face glowed with peace, contentment and love. She smiled up at Bruic and waved him in. Och, Bruic. Come in, come in. Have ye come to see me newest born?
Yea, lass. I have heard tell of her beauty and sweet disposition from everyone I've had conversations with in the past few days, but I've been loath to force myself on you.
Fergus gave a great roar of laughter. Since when?
It's the new me, I fathom. He turned his head slightly and said in a stern voice, Good afternoon to you, Kellach.
The sight of his sooty blue eyes, burning brightly, slammed against her thoughts. A dazzling exclamation point of comprehension and alarm they were. With nervous energy, she scampered from her seat at the nearby table and gently handed the whimpering baby to Olwen.
Kellach's breath caught in her throat. Her pulse did a little skip at the sight of him. A tremor shook her form in her effort to keep from running into his arms. She wiped a sleeve across her damp forehead. Her body fought to keep up with the violent emotions clawing at her heart. She would suffer the tortures of the damned before she'd admit how glad she was to see him.
With a shaky feeling in the pit of her stomach, she spun around on her heels and fussed with getting dishes out of a cupboard, setting them on the table and rearranging them several times over. She glanced up.
Looking relaxed and dangerous, Bruic leaned back against the frame of the door. He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest without escaping. A warm grin tugged his mouth slightly to the left. Kellach's stomach clenched with all sorts of emotions.
Come closer, Bruic. This tiny lass won't hurt you, Olwen called from her position on her bed. Next to her, Fergus smiled and looked at the baby with longing.
Bruic moved closer and was gratified to see Olwen remove the tiny blanket from the baby's face. She held the baby up to him. Here. Ye may hold her, if ye like. She's a sturdy little lass.
With a single movement, Bruic bent and took the child in his hands, his forefingers supporting her head.
Why, she fits in the palm of my hand, he said, nestling her in the crook of his elbow instead. A silly smile transfused his face.
Kellach and Fergus have told me ye have babes of yer own. Have ye never held them? Olwen inquired, beaming at his careful handling of the baby.
No. I never held my own when they were this little. I was always off fighting for one master after another, for some Norse cause or another. My wife died shortly after my twin sons were born. They were given to another to nurse. I did not lay eyes on them until they were almost a year.
Och, ye poor man. To lose the comfort of wee babes in yer arms. She smiled at him softly. Perhaps, ye'll rectify that in the future.
Yea. Speaking of the future, may I have a word with you outside, Kellach? he asked, handing the baby to Fergus, who grabbed hold eagerly.
Having watched the byplay over the past few minutes, Kellach's attitude had softened somewhat. She figured it wouldn't hurt her to be polite. Of, course. Go ahead. I will settle Olwen and be right there.
Without another word, Bruic bowed stiffly and went out the door.
~*~
Kellach slipped out the door to stand on the small step Olwen had placed for young Toryn by the high door. She stood still for a moment, listening to the sounds of the birds and working the tenseness out of her stiff, rigid shoulders.
How much longer do you think to avoid our discussion?
The deep voice startled her, reminding her of the reason she came outside. She breathed deeply to gear up to the challenge he threw in her direction. There's nothing to discuss.
His scent mixed with the soft sea air and leather. This would not be easy. She looked around her briefly. Where was he?
From around the side of the building, his hand reached up, grabbed her wrist and pulled. Unbalanced, she flew off the step to where others could not see them. Inch by inch, her body came into slow contact with his. Her breasts settled against his hard chest, her hips against his muscled thighs. Shivers raced through her. Her limbs and the cold reserve she'd tried to master heated with the warmth flowing from him.
Let go. I'll talk with you but let go of me.
I don't think so. I like the feel of you against my body. His hand slid down to grasp her fingers in his. He raised them to his face and kissed her open palm.
Stop it. She tried to pull her hand away but his hold was too strong.
Kellach shoved him, hoping to reduce the sensations he formed in her. He just kissed the palm again and brought her wrist to his mouth. One swipe of his tongue across the wrist and she sagged against him, her mouth to his chest.
Don't, please, don't, she begged, trying to pull her body away from the heat he generated.
Bruic swung her back around to face him but held her off at arm's length. He needed to get his aching body under control. His tongue on her wrist, her reaction to it, almost had almost undone him.
Let us talk then. Like civilized people, he said calmly. Would you prefer to walk about?
I must get back to help Olwen. She needs me. She turned toward the front of the hut.
His hand came up to clutch her wrist again. She doesn't. She seems quite content with the babe, and she has Fergus there to help her, he said, moving her along toward one of the stone fences in the nearest field and enclosing her fingers in his hand. He stopped suddenly and looked at her. When did all this business with Fergus start? I was unaware of an attraction.
You are unaware of a lot of things, she countered.
But not of your jealousy over Elva being in our home, he said in a teasing manner, which she ignored. His grin over his words delighted him; but he understood it would anger Kellach. You sulked in the fort, pretending to go about your duties. You left my hut right after that young girl entered.
I did not. I behaved as a dutiful servant. I treated your wound, then took furs and went into the front room. To sleep on a bench. To afford you and Elva your privacy, she said, heat rising to her cheeks.
You were not there when I called out to you in the night, when my wound reopened.
But Elva was. She could have tended it. It was no longer serious. Kellach avoided his eyes, unable to look at him or let him see the hurt in her eyes at the very thought of Elva tending him.
She did what she could, since you had already gone from the premises. I was in no shape to charge after you. His words were an accusation, angry, harsh.
Kellach stopped. She yanked her fingers out of his hands. You know nothing, you fool. Toryn came to get me. Olwen was already laboring to produce that beautiful baby.
Her mouth had gone dry with the heat of her anger. I was still doing the duties ye assigned me, although I would have done it even if ye had forbidden the doing of it. Fergus brought her to her hut and took young Toryn off. Somewhere. I do not know where. Her forefinger came up close to his face.
Easy, lass. I was joking with you.
Ye were not. Ye were attempting to put me down, to make less of me. Well, ye can't. I will not allow such behavior. It offends me mightily.
Bruic moved away from her finger and brought her arm down to her side. He did it gently but his teeth were clenched together. His words were strained. I'm sorry to so offend you, lass. But I was worried. I spent most of the next morning looking all over for you. It was not until I saw Bridie that I had any idea of where you were.
Anger engulfed Kellach. She barely heard the cows lowing, or the horses neighing or the ocean birds cackling in tune with the words renting the air. She took the offensive and slowly, with rapid shoves, backed Bruic up against a low stone fence in the pasture.
He sat unexpectedly. Kellach tripped and fell over his knees. It seems that you're filled with your own angers. But remember this, woman. I am the master here and you are my slave. I expect you to continue your duties in my house.
Kellach pushed against his knees in an attempt to rise. Her anger almost overwhelmed her when he would not let her. She slid out of his grasp instead and fell to the ground, her dress up to her thighs. Ye beast. Ye are not me master. I am not yer slave. Go find yer Elva. Let her do for ye. I will no longer be available to see to yer needs.
Ah, then it was Elva who perturbed you so. Bruic gave a satisfied grunt. Well, for your information, she only came here to tell me of the danger to the twins and your sister.
He hesitated, his head turned away, and then continued. Elva and Valdi, with a group of my men, will be leaving this very evening with the tide. They go back to Dublin to see if they can trace down where my children have been taken.
She was puzzled. Where your children have been taken? I thought they were in captivity. Olaf had them. Was that not so?
It seems someone else has them now. I know not who, but I intend to find out, he said with firmness.
Why don't you go with them? she questioned, more puzzled than before.
Several reasons. First, I should not be seen in Dublin, so close to the fighting. Secondly, a man of my height is easily recognizable, even in a disguise. And last of all, I will not leave this clan to the care of Morfinn and Ronan. Bruic spun in the direction of the fort, as if sensing people behind him.
She turned in the same direction and gasped in a low voice. Och, it seems as if your words have made the very villains appear.
Morfinn, who had been leaning heavily on a stout stick, raised his arm in greeting. Kellach said quickly, I do not wish to converse with them. I'll go back to Olwen's.
Bruic grasped her arm and almost lifted her off her feet. You may go to Olwen's now, but you are to return to my home before the total darkness of night.
And if I won't?
Her face was close to his when he bent down to kiss her lips. You will. Or I'll come after you. Before midnight, lass. I'll be waiting, he murmured into her ear, then licked it softly before letting her go and watching her scurry to Olwen's house.
Ronan jogged up the path as if to catch up with Kellach. Where did she go? he asked, puffing slightly. I would speak with her.
Bruic answered, his voice gruff. She has gone to see to Olwen and the new babe. She will return to the fort later.
Morfinn finally came up to them. That bit of hill seems to get longer each time I traverse it.
Then why did you bother? Bruic asked, although he really wasn't interested in the answer.
Morfinn smiled. Why, to see the child who is reported to be a most attractive infant. I've heard she's all light-haired like her mother and rosy as well.
Bruic nodded. She is that.
Ronan spoke with an edge to his voice. I saw you and Kell in a not particularly pleasant embrace.
Bruic looked at Ronan and grimaced. That was no embrace. It was a threat. She is to return to my hut this evening. I merely reminded her she is a servant. She often does not wish to act as one and shirks her duties. He turned and strode away, through the pasture to his left.
Morfinn spoke quietly. The sooner the Norseman Badger is gone from here, the better off everything will be. We'll see to it shortly, my son.
Aye…
Chapter Seventeen
>The glorious bright sunlight of the day set slowly. The effects streaked the sky with combinations of red, pink and purple hues. This night, dinner in the hall was a boisterous affair, the noise created by the Gaels and Norse loud and vulgar.
A distracted Bruic traversed the distance between the fort and his stone hut for a second time, worried that Kellach wouldn't obey his command to appear. Each time he returned to the fort, he was angrier than the time before. By the third trip, he convinced himself she chose to defy him. He was determined not to let her dictate the terms of her servitude. In anger, he consumed more ale than usual.
>One by one, men left the hall, bound for unknown places. The room quieted somewhat. Surprisingly, after his last unsuccessful journey to the hut, he found himself sitting beside an excessively genial Morfinn who plied an unsuspecting Bruic with more and more ale whenever his tankard was half full. Their conversation became more amiable by the minute and continued, even when a half-drunk Ronan joined them, with a gruff snorting laugh.
Are you two conspiring against the world?
Morfinn laughed uproariously, as if Ronan had made a joke. Bruic chuckled, a bit more subtly.
It was Morfinn who answered, gesturing broadly. Sit yerself down, son. Conspire with us. He laughed harder, leaned over and patted the edge of a nearby bench.
Ronan dragged the wooden bench closer to his stepfather and Bruic. He plopped his seemingly drunken body on one end. The bench teetered and tipped, caught on an uneven section of the stone floor. Ronan's arms flew into the air and he slid to the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him.
A look of great surprise contorted his face, but contrary to his normal response of anger at being made the fool, he laughed over his own misfortune. He stood, moved the bench to a better spot on the uneven stone and slouched in the middle, holding his head. He glanced at Morfinn slyly, with a look of a secret message. Too much drink, I'm thinking, he said.
Angling his body so Bruic couldn't see Ronan clearly, Morfinn asked with total disinterest, Did ye hurt yerself, lad? He turned to Bruic with an air of great comradeship and said behind his hand. I wouldn't want to be explaining to his mother he got hurt while in my company.
Ronan grimaced. I don't think she'd care. She understands me and knows how I get myself into troubles. With you or without.
Bruic stood and stretched, trying to appear nonchalant. A tired groan escaped him. He yawned. To him, Morfinn and Ronan looked like two lost souls, who despite any sense of logic found each other, and each felt the other lacking.
Morfinn looked at Ronan through narrowed eyes, and then at Bruic. Where do ye go now, Badger? Ye seem to be a mite restless tonight. Not yer usual restrained self.
Bruic ignored him and looked around the hall, searching for the sight of Kellach. He noticed the hall wasn't as congested as it had been earlier or on the previous two nights. The bard sat on his usual stool in the corner, reciting poems of historic heroes to several youths. The lute player played softly, accompanied by the soft voices of the Gaelic women still left in the hall.
Where are all your men, Morfinn? Mine as well. They seem to be missing from the hall.
Ronan spoke up. They're scattered all over the area. Some went off with ladies they're fond of. Others are seeing to our horses, feeding and watering them.
Morfinn interjected quickly. Some of mine are playing challenging games of superiority with yer Norsemen. In one of the big fields, out in the back pastures. With several torches to shield them from the dark. I don't know where the rest of your men have gone. He chuckled. No doubt they'll come roaring in soon, smelling as rank as the animals.
I should check on Valdi and the ship, Bruic mused, shaking his head to get rid of the dizzy sensations he felt from the ale. He pressed his lips together. Instinct made him uneasy. Something was not right.
Ronan glanced quickly at Morfinn, in with one eyebrow raised as a signal.
Morfinn said, Ye told me he was not leaving until midnight. Wasn't he supposed to wait for the right tide and complete darkness, so no one sees him leave? When Bruic nodded in assent, Morfinn continued. Let's go down to the beach together a bit later and give Valdi and his crew a quiet but grand old send-off.
It shall be as you wish. Bruic answered just to shut the man up. Bruic wandered about the hall for minutes, going from group to group, before turning on his heels and leaving through the open door of the hall.
Morfinn watched him go. Puzzled, he leaned back in his chair. That is the fourth or fifth time he has gone to seek yer Kellach.
Did you tell him, as you were supposed to, that she'd be later than she expected? Ronan grinned broadly, knowing the answer.
Of course not. If he stays in one place, everyone will see him. His wanderings do more good for us. No one will be sure where he's gone. I want him traipsing back and forth exactly like this.
I think the fool's besotted with Kell, Ronan said. And I don't like it.
As ye are, too. Morfinn patted his hand. Don't worry about it. Everything is arranged for tonight. He will leave when his ship sails out, with his entire crew. It will leave the others vulnerable. We'll be in charge. That's why we must keep everyone busy with either their games or their orders.
I didn't see all that many Norsemen in the fields, Ronan complained, so they must be somewhere. He leaned over, grabbed a pitcher of ale from the nearest table and was about to pour himself another mug. The pitcher flew from his hand and the contents scattered across the floor.
Morfinn glared at him. Don't be a fool, Ronan. It's the big man we want drunk, not you. He drawled maliciously. That's the point of it all, fool. There won't be that many Norse around once that ship sails.
Ronan glared back at his wicked stepfather, his king. Did you think I was drunk when I took that fall? I only did it to let the Badger think I was.
Tonight is not a time to play-act. The Badger will be tough enough to take down, even if he is drunk. Morfinn's face was taut with anger. He held up his hand. Be quiet. He comes.
Bruic reeled through the door into the hall, a slight lurch in his step, his face a mass of angry frowns. He fought familiar negative reactions over not finding Kellach. Self-disgust churned through him. He scoffed at his own naïve expectations of finding the girl at the hut. He strode to the nearest table still laden with food and drinks and hoisted the largest pitcher of ale. He clutched it to his chest and moved with amazing speed for a man who had imbibed so much.
Arching a look at Morfinn, Bruic sat down in the chair he had occupied before. His guts twisted into knots; he drank straight from the pitcher, consuming nearly all of the fluid. Lord, but I'm thirsty this night, he said, too heartily. I know I'm drinking too much. I haven't been this careless for years. He grinned. I think I'm drunk.
Ronan smiled. Don't worry, my stepfather and I will see you home.
Yea. Bruic laughed quickly then grew more serious. Opening his eyes wide and leveling a hard look at Ronan. And who is going to hold you up? he asked.
With a giddy drunken laugh, Ronan responded. I walk better drunk than I do sober. Ask anybody.
Bruic interrupted hotly. I think I'd better find Fergus. He's the only one I know who's big enough to carry me if I topple over. He burped and sucked in a fortifying breath. Ronan, go to the door and give a shout for Fergus. If he doesn't answer, go to Olwen's. He's probably there.
Morfinn tilted his head, his eyebrows raised, and nodded to Ronan. Go, son. Also, get some strong men to help us get the Badger to his home.
Bruic half-nodded, half-shrugged. Pictures of Kellach welled up in his mind and blurred the images of the men in front of him. Ale and anguish combined to make his speech thicker when he spoke. I want to go down to the beach. To see Valdi. Give him instructions.
Morfinn's shrewd eyes seemed to measure the big man. He nodded to Ronan to go ahead. In a voice between a growl and a purr, he said, Badger, as soon as some men get here to help us all, we'll go directly to yer ship. Ease up, man. This is supposed to be an evening of laughter and frolic, a cementing of our continuing relationship.
Bruic shook his head. I know. He debated saying more but could not find the words, so he stared, bemused by Morfinn's sudden affability.
By the way, I didn't tell ye the recent news, did I? Of course I didn't. It was as if Morfinn was addressing himself alone. It completely slipped my mind until Ronan came into the hall. I didn't mention it then because I didn't want to embarrass the lad.
What news? Stray thoughts kept popping into Bruic's head, making him tighten up. He was having a hard time keeping up with the jumps in Morfinn's conversation. He rubbed the area around his wounded shoulder to ease the tenseness he felt overtaking him.
Ronan and I intend to search for Kellach's mother. We've gotten word that the woman is somewhere in Gael. We know how anxious Kell has always been about finding her. As soon as we do, and the Druid's curse is lifted, Kellach will marry Ronan.
His heart cruelly squeezed by the words, Bruic leaped to his feet. What? Is what you're saying true? Morfinn's words reverberated all around him, echoing off the fort walls with harsh mockery.
Aye, lad. What reason would I have to be lying to ye? The lass has wanted to find her mother for the longest time. From what I understand, only the mother can remove the Druid's curse hanging over the child's head.
Bruic couldn't believe what he was hearing. The cold words stiffened the band of pain in his very core. When did Kellach tell you this? he asked belligerently. He needed to separate nightmare from reality.
Why, when Ronan and I went to see Olwen's babe. Kellach was there and told us the sad story. Morfinn smiled, but the smile never reached his blood-shot eyes. I don't understand. Did ye know? Surely, ye wouldn't deny the child her happiness, would ye? he questioned. At times, the lass has been a part of me immediate clan. Ronan and Kellach grew up together. They became quite close during the times she spent with us.
I don't believe you. Disappointment that Kellach would confide in this man weighed heavy on Bruic. He felt a sick sensation in his stomach. Now Kellach's absence was beginning to make sense to him. She had no intention of coming back to his hut during the night. Or ever… The lass never said anything about marriage to me when I spoke with her earlier.
I don't imagine she'd be wanting to say anything until me stepson asked her proper-like. Besides, she is so interested in finding her mother, she can think of little else. Ye're not angry with her, are ye?
Of course, I'm angry with her. She is my servant and should have told me of her plans. Thoughts of Kellach prowled the edges of his drunkenness like a hungry wolf.
Ronan appeared in the doorway to the hall and held onto the walls. He seemed to stagger, tripping on a small child who had fallen asleep listening to the bard. Ronan shoved the child out of the way with his foot and moved to face his stepfather. I have some men waiting outside. They'll go down to the beach with us, to Valdi, and guard us on our way home afterwards.
Bruic brushed past him, lurching to one side. I'll go on my own.
Morfinn shouted, I don't think that would be a good idea, Badger. Ye're far too drunk.
Bruic stumbled on the first step going out the door, his stride unsure.
See. Wait, I'll help you, Morfinn shouted as he rushed to the door and grabbed one of Bruic's arms. He slipped his shoulder under the man's armpit and kept a tight hold on the arm. Lean on me.
Ronan quickly followed his stepfather. He flew forward and grabbed Bruic from the other side.
Bruic started to resist. Wha…what's going on…here?
Morfinn and Ronan practically lifted him up off his feet, put their shoulders to his back and shoved him out the door. There five of the largest men from Morfinn's guards grabbed Bruic and the two formerly holding him slid out from beneath the fray. The men dragged Bruic toward the walls and the gate, pretending to help him along the way. They laughed and sang, seemingly anxious to make enough noise to cover up what they were doing.
Now Bruic was angry. He realized that something was amiss. He struggled to free his arms, to call out. Someone smashed him in the mouth. He was completely surrounded by Morfinn's men. With a small glow from dying torches, men came over the fields, after their game, shouting to one another in fun. Someone hit Bruic's head with the iron hilt of a sword and his knees buckled. Another person hit him with a rock. He heard someone shout something from a corner of the yard. Bruic tried to speak but couldn't. There was a hand over his mouth.
Understanding dawned, but only momentarily, before another blow stripped his mind clean. He passed out. Frigid, sinister eyes watched in glee.
~*~
Kellach finished her chores at Olwen's. She'd fed everyone including the hound, which now lay at her feet, preventing her from moving far. She bent and patted his massive head and tried to move him a bit.
She smiled down at Fergus who sat on a bench, watching the two sleeping soundly on the bed. You'll care for them. Right? she asked.
He nodded without taking his eyes off Olwen or the babe. Aye. That I will. Forever… He turned and looked at Kellach. That is, if I can convince her to marry with me.
I'm sure she will. She's seen how gentle you are with the baby and knows how well you get along with Toryn
Fergus looked over to the other side of the room, at the sleeping boy. He's a wee, clever lad. He favors his mother, just as the baby does. I'd like to make them my very own.
Kellach patted his shoulder. I understand, Fergus. You're a good man. And Olwen feels the lack of a man in her household. She hesitated. If only her husband hadn't gone searching for Iomar after the wedding, he'd probably still be here now.
A sigh issued from the depths of her chest and turned into a soft groan. Grian looked up at her with a quizzical expression. Seven months have passed since we got word of his death. I know Olwen's gotten used to his loss, no longer as bereft as she was before. She couldn't afford to be. She needed to care for what she had living and growing.
Kellach sat on the bench next to Fergus but grew silent. She fought the immediate questions she wanted to ask him about Bruic. Grian sat up and put his head in her lap as if he understood her wondering. Absentmindedly she smoothed down his fur and rubbed behind his ears.
Lass, ye need to go ahead. Go to the Badger, to Bruic. Fergus seemed to study her. He's a good man, Kellach. He'll always treat ye decently. And I can tell he wants ye for his own.
Inside I know that, too. But I cannot consider a family of my own, or anyone's, until my mother is found and removes the Druid's curse from my soul. Bruic holds the reins. He knows where my mother is but will not tell me so that I may seek her out.
Because of a promise made to yer mother, which she secured from him when she agreed to come back here to care for the children. Fergus bowed his head. Olaf did not give her an opportunity to care for them. He whisked her away to a…
Please, Fergus. Tell me where she is.
I cannot, lass. I, too, am bound by the same promise as Bruic. Besides, the idea of seeing ye after twenty years of separation is beyond her capacity to bear. She feels guilty, even though she understands she was not at fault. Her mind dare not wish for yer forgiveness nor risk yer possible censure.
Kellach spun around on the narrow bench, pushing the hound's head off her lap. I would never do anything to harm her, or distress her. She did not leave me willingly.
Grian stood and stretched his long body. He poked her with his nose. When she ignored him, he trotted over to Toryn's bed and climbed up. Snuggling next to the little boy, who threw one arm around the dog, Grian gave a grunt of contentment.
You know Fergus? Toryn should keep the dog. He'd be a friend for the lad, especially with a new babe in the house. This way, Toryn would have something new as well and would be kept busy while I return to my duties, Kellach said.
Aye. It would be good for the lad. Teach him some responsibility and he'd be beyond pleased. Fergus thought for a minute before speaking further. Kellach, yer mother doesn't know how ye feel. For the while, let things sort themselves out first. Let Bruic find the children and arrange their journey here to Dun Geata where they'll be safe.
Kellach stood up and began to pace the small confines of the room. This doesn't make sense to me. Why would Olaf wish harm to Bruic's children and my sister?
Och, ye know of her then?
Aye, I do. Bruic did tell me that much. She stopped her aimless wandering around the room and faced Fergus. Please answer me. What kind of man is Olaf, that he would use children as hostages?
Olaf is an old war-horse. He's been fighting for one cause or another most of his life. All he wants is to make life better for his particular Norse cohorts, who count on him. He believes a conquered Gael will lead to a better life.
But why pick on Bruic, a man who has been his staunchest fighter?
For exactly that reason. He doesn't want to lose the very man he relies on most, a man who can fight and win, a man who can sail ships up narrow channels and find good ports for trade. Fergus sighed and paused for several moments to catch his breath. Olaf knows Bruic is tired of war, of fighting and of sailing, as I am as well. He also knows Bruic and I wish to settle down in our homeland. Olaf needs to prevent that until the land is his. I have nothing to lose. Bruic does.
It's a terrible burden Bruic carries.
And through it all, he has not harmed a hair of anyone's head. At least, not here, not anywhere on this island.
Kellach smiled at Fergus with great affection. Again, she patted his broad shoulder. You are a fine man. Olwen will be lucky to have you.
Fergus beamed up at her and patted the hand she had stationed on his shoulder. Go, lass. Go to my friend and treat him with respect. He, too, is a fine man.
Fergus stood and stretched. He moved over to Toryn's bed. He bent, shoved Grian off and pulled the furs up around the little boy. On silent feet, he crossed to the big bed and did the same for Olwen and the baby.
Smiling to herself, Kellach gathered the rest of her clothes and shoved them into the bundle she chose to carry with her. She felt her heart open and fill with a longing she had not had since she was a child. The sensation was soft and sweet. She couldn't wait to get to Bruic's side to tell him of her discoveries.
Without another word, she left Olwen's and hurried on her way to the hut, eager to see and talk to Bruic.
~*~
Kellach burst through the door and called out, I'm here, as I told I would be. A bit late, for sure, but I wanted to finish everything up at Olwen's. I left Fergus in charge, she shouted from the front room. She moved about the room, hanging her clothes on hooks, glad to be back where she now felt she belonged, glad that Elva was gone.
Bruic, I left Grian with Olwen and Toryn. He'll be a good companion for the lad. I'll leave the door open a smidgen so he can come in later if he wants to visit. She tilted her head to one side. Bruic, are you still so angry you can't answer me when I talk to you?
When no answer came, she marched into the bedchamber, ready to argue with him.
Furs lay rumpled on the empty bed. She looked around the room. Where was Bruic? Och, she thought, laughing to herself, he's probably in the fort, trying to show me that he doesn't care whether I come here or not.
>She ran through the two rooms and flew out the door, feeling light and happy. She ran over the newly grown grass near the hut, onto the yard and down the steps of the fort to the hall, stopping when she entered the room.
Few souls were around except the bard and the lute player, both asleep in their corners, and a few of the older men. One passed her without acknowledgement, and went out. Kellach knew he was one of Morfinn's men. It was disconcerting to find men with hangdog faces sitting around, peering out from under their hands and seeming to slink through the gloom of the hall.
Where is everyone? she asked of the room at large.
An old man who tried to stand but could barely walk, croaked back at her, Some're in the fields, with only a torch or two to guide them, playing their hearts out in stupid games of battle, games which will only bruise the lot of them.
Which field? she asked.
One of Morfinn's men spoke up, his voice surly in the quiet hall. The big pasture in the back lot. Away from the animals and their dung, for sure. He took a large gulp of ale from his mug and looked away.
Where are the others? she asked the older man.
Some're fiddlin' with the women folk. I know they're not supposed to be doing that, but doing it they are. Where, I don't know. But men will be men, after it's all said aloud.
The old man flopped back down on the bench he hadn't moved away from and belched. The players in the fields were here for a bit, but most have gone off again in some sort of rivalry. Some're down on the beach saying goodbye to them what intends to set sail this night. Aye, that they are, the fools. There's a storm brewing out in the sea to the west and threatening to sink their puny boat.
Do you know where the Badger is?
He were here a while back. I don't know where he be right now. Come to think on it, it looked to me like he was about to stagger off to the beach. With the rest of the fools.
Something didn't seem right to Kellach. Prior to tonight, Bruic had always been true to his word. Why would he go off when he told her to come back to the hut? Stray, distrustful thoughts about the Norseman made her worry her lower lip, chiding herself for believing him in the first place.
He must be paying her back. She had started this whole thing by leaving the hut without telling him she was going to Olwen's; for letting her anger at his ready acceptance of Elva overrule her judgment.
It took only seconds to make a decision, but it seemed like an eternity. She would go after him. She left the hall at a fast clip and charged across the yard, almost by instinct.
She had never liked the night, because of her dreams. And here she was, alone with only the light from the moon to guide her, with fog closing in on her, misting her clothing. Everything was reminiscent of her dreams. Fingers of fright grabbed her, yet she ran for the road, toward the very beach where her life had started going wrong.
Memory of the day on the beach flashed through her mind, painfully vivid even after all these years. The boy. She understood now. He had no intention of hurting her. He had been trying to protect her from the others. That boy was Bruic. There was strength in the boy, in the man. He would protect and defend. Oh, Lord, how stupid she'd been for so many years.
The fog grew heavier, wetting her face and hair. She drifted through the heavy mist and the fog of shock, slowly losing her control, sobbing, stumbling in ruts. Mist ran in rivulets down her cheeks, mingling with her tears. She panted, forcing air into her tear-clogged throat. Her chest heaved with her erratic breathing.
Still she traveled forward like a crazed woman, to a man, man she now knew she loved. This man, this Bruic. Her enemy. Her love!
No matter how fast she seemed to move, the minutes crawled by. They brought her closer to Bruic. Slowly, through a break in the mist near the water, the shapes of the rocky ridges of the beach cover came into view. She was almost there. She paused, stopped in her track and gulped in deep breaths, making an effort to still her quaking bones.
Muted voices traveled on thick air. A group of men came up the road toward her. Her strength nearly gone, she barely kept herself from calling out, listening for the one voice that would ensure her safety.
It never came.
Ronan's crass voice whipped across her sensitive feelings and she consoled herself. He would tell her something about what was going on. She called out to him with trepidation, saying, Ronan, I hear your voice, but I can't see you in this fog. Where are you?
Kellach? Are you on the road? If so, stay where you are. I'll find you. Just talk to me.
Aye. I'm on the road. I can hear you better now. You're coming closer. Is Bruic with you?
Nae. Wait until I get to you. Then we'll talk instead of shout. Ronan said. His footsteps became audible, scuffing across loose stones. Within seconds, he was standing by her side. Och, there you are, Kell. It's glad I am to have found you in this mist. It was worse down at the beach. Come; let's go back up to Dun Geata. He took her elbow, turned her around toward the fort and led her up a slight incline.
Is Bruic with you, Ronan?
Nae. Why? Is there trouble at the fort? If so, our king will handle it.
Kellach was adamant. She wanted to know where Bruic was, so she asked again. Is Bruic with you?
Nae, lass. He's gone… With the moon's help, an evil flash of teeth wrapped by a smile revealed some sort of victory-and a promise.
Why was Ronan smiling?
Gone? Where?
He went on the ship. He went to Dublin to see to his children. He went with Elva, Ronan said flatly. Didn't he tell you he was going?
Kellach wrenched her elbow from his grasp. Grief burned off the numbness in her body, burned off her last desperate hope to reconcile with Bruic. Each step she took to the fort became a body blow echoing in the emptiness of her soul. She fought to stay calm, but raw emotions ripped through her. Her knees buckled and she went down.
Kellach. Kellach, sweet. Have I distressed you by telling you the truth?
When she did not answer, Ronan gathered in his arms and called out to Morfinn. Kellach has fainted dead away. I'm taking her to her hut. I will meet with you later. He bent down and kissed her forehead. Don't worry, sweet. Ronan will take care of you from now on…
Chapter Eighteen
>Bruic was gone, gone with Elva. That's all Kellach knew or wanted to know. Her hurt and anger overwhelmed her.
Stiffly, for four full days, she went about her duties to the clan, understanding her eyes betrayed her feelings but refusing to discuss Bruic's departure with anyone. Why waste words on a man who didn't fancy her? Duties piled up, one by one, and she completed them with alacrity, acting as if she were still under Bruic's orders.
Morfinn and Ronan ruled all of An Dun Geata with much hilarity and little sobriety. Their guards did nothing to help. In fact, they demanded far more services than they deserved and most often returned what was done for them with extreme unpleasantness, following the lead of their king.
Norsemen left on the property seemed not to mind and even joined in on the fun. Without a moment of protest, they functioned in a relaxed and agreeable manner, continuing with their assigned chores as if working for one master or another was of no consequence. Kellach wondered at their seeming lack of concern. Perhaps, Fergus had something to do with that but she refused to approach him on the subject.
Sensing something about the big man's disappearance was not authentic, not by his choice. Both Lunn and Fergus cautioned her to bide her time and yet she wondered how anyone could overcome the Badger in any kind of pitched battle. What they did know for fact was Bruic would never desert An Dun Geata, his men or anyone under his care, nor do so without mention to anyone. When a moment of privacy to discuss the situation, away from Ronan, was afforded to them, they singly found their way to Olwen, who reaffirmed the two men's faith in Bruic. They all insisted Kellach not despair. She refused to listen and continued on with a heavy heart, all the while knowing despair was the one sin that wouldn't be forgiven.
The days without Bruic's presence were endless and lonely. Not even Grian and Toryn's foolish antics brought a smile to her face. She no longer denied to herself how desperately she missed the man, the Badger, her confirmed enemy. Need coiled inside her like a burning ache.
She endeavored to harden her heart to every thought of him. She was wretched over his running off and craved the very sight of him. She understood his need to rescue the children, and his undying promise to her mother, to whom he seemed devoted, but not about Elva.
What was Elva to him?
Kellach lived through the torment inside her. She kept self-pity at bay. Others had left her before, taken from her or by dying. It was the Druid's curse. In the long run, she had saved Bruic from the usual fate connected with the curse on her.
In a particularly bleak moment of hopelessness, she wondered if she should consider Ronan, whose usual assertiveness in his dealings had changed, of late, to kindness and consideration. The clan desired a Gael to rule over it and to care for its position in the scheme of things. She could not allow the dark curse to endanger anyone else, not even Ronan.
Returning to the hut on the fourth night after Bruic's departure from the fort, Ronan stepped into her path, his face full of distant pity. Yet, the glint in his eyes had a subtle male boldness, a physical insolence. He grasped her arms and held her in a vice-like grip so she couldn't pull away. A slow smile caught the edges of his mouth and traveled up into his eyes.
We need to talk, Kell.
Aye, so we do. But stop looming over me like that. I don't like it, she said, slowly peeling his fingers from her arms. And don't do that again. You know I do not like to be handled in that fashion.
With a slight sneer, Ronan said, You're a mite touchy for a woman about to be committed to her future husband. He played with her hair, idly curling the wisps around his fingers as he spoke.
You make a jeer out of everything, she commented and slapped his hand away. I have not committed myself to a husband, not again, nor will I until my mother is present to remove the Dark Druid's curse on me. I cannot impose such misery on others, ever again. I will cause no more deaths in my lifetime.
That curse is a bit of foolish fancy. Someone probably made the whole thing up, Ronan said, without looking at her directly.
It seemed to Kellach that he had a funny tight look around his lips, as if guilty of some secret knowledge. Ronan, if you care to talk with me, say nothing about my mother, Bruic, or your own expectations. Let us go toward the hut and sit on the stone bench near its door.
A grin lit Ronan's face. Is that an invitation?
Aye. She was glum and somewhat resigned about their association. To sit with me for a moment at my doorstep is all it is.
Will you not be inviting me inside? He sounded fearful of the answer. Perhaps he regretted asking.
Nae. I will not, she answered.
It will be as you say. For now. Ronan took her elbow and moved her along the short path to her hut. When he got to the bench he sat, leaving her to stand and stare out into the distance. He turned her to him and took her hands in his. Kell, you know I care for you. I have for many years now. Everything has conspired to keep us separated, but now I want you for my wife.
I am aware of that, but it's been better for your sake to have our relationship as it is.
Gently, he pulled her down onto the bench. Come. Sit beside me, Kell. There is much I could tell you, although I am not at liberty to do so, for now. But I do promise to…
There is nothing you can tell me, unless you had something to do with Bruic's sudden disappearance, she interspersed quickly.
Ronan sat straight up on the bench and stared at her with a cold, calculating look. Then, in his usual nonchalant way, he leaned back against the stone frame of the hut. He let out a muffled sigh, almost like a yawn. I thought we were not to talk of Bruic, but since you have mentioned him, let me tell you this much. Both Morfinn and I, along with several others, walked down to the beach with him in great comradeship. I'm afraid we were all a bit drunk, for the walking was more like staggering under a great weight of ale.
What Ronan said had the sound of a lie in it. Bruic doesn't drink much. He always keeps an iron control over himself.
Well, he didn't that night. We all drank too much, even Morfinn. Most of the men went to the far field to play their games of combat and besting each other, but the bard and the lute player were both in the hall, if you'd care to question them.
I will that. Kellach turned and stared deep into his eyes; looking for further signs of the lie. Shadows of another bad night hounded his eyes and were mirrored in the lines of his face. Where was Lunn all this time?
With the men in the field, hoping to keep them from killing each other, I would guess. Or the old goat wanted to prove that he was as fit as the younger men. You know how men are…
I do not understand men, she said, shaking her head slightly, nor do I care to worry over them. Her words were a trivial slap, born of frustration, loneliness, fear and heartache.
Ronan tried to put his arm around her. She shrugged it off her shoulders. Do not take liberties, Ronan. I will not stand for your pawing…
The lines on his face tightened in anger. I was not pawing. I was trying to comfort you. I see that you are upset and bothered by the big man's leaving. I tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen. It was the voice of that Elva, like a siren's song to his ears.
Kellach wheeled around on the bench until their knees met. What do you mean?
It's as if they had a signal or something. As soon as she called out to him, he ran to the ship, lurching from side to side. But run he did. There's no word of a lie in that.
Oh, heavenly Father! Kellach exclaimed as supreme wretchedness overtook her. Blood roared in her ears. She couldn't breathe. Didn't want to. Her throat closed over and all she could do was to clutch her hands together in her lap.
When she spoke, her voice was cracked and hoarse. I can't stay here and listen to more of your ravings. She leaped up from the bench and went to the door of the hut. There she turned to him. Go, please. I will see you in the morning. I bid you a good night.
Kellach, wait. He held up his hand to stay her. It's not my fault Bruic wanted to go with that little beauty. Even I found her attractive, although you were ever present in my mind. What would you have me do to convince you it is Elva he wants? That he ran off with her the first chance he had?
Confusion tore through Kellach's mind. Bruic seldom lied. Ronan did often. Why should she believe Ronan? Was it her own insecurities that made her believe Ronan this time?
She sucked in air at the mental slap she gave herself and took a step toward the man facing her. I need no convincing. He's gone, and that's that, she said in a heated voice, then added coldly, All I'm interested in now is finding my mother. You find her and we'll see how our lives get rearranged.
Ronan rose and rushed to her side, his fondest hope visible in the very smile he gave her. Didn't Morfinn and I tell you that we would look for her, scour the island for her? And we will do that.
She gave him a forlorn look. Then why are you standing around? Other than a stiffened spine, Ronan made no move. Why are you still here, feasting off our clan, panting over our women and doing nothing of worth? Go, go find my mother, she shrieked at him, at the end of her wits.
He averted his face, turned on his heels and moved away, shaking his head in wonderment. She watched him walk off with a hangdog set to his shoulders. Staring at the middle of his back, Kellach was sorry she had screamed at him. None of this was his fault, she was sure.
But whose fault had it been? Was it really the fault of the Dark Druid? Or was that just a tale…as Ronan had suggested? Why had she never questioned her fate?
Thoughts roamed her mind in a disjointed fashion. She could barely think straight. Her head pounded at her temples.
Even if she wanted Bruic more, if she came to love him with all her heart, she'd have had to make a decision to sever the ties before she found both of them hurt once more by the Druid's curse. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to him. Yet the idea of severing the bond between them tormented her. She shook in anger over her fate and raised her fist to the heavens.
The sky had remained clear all day and the sea calm. Kellach sensed a storm coming as dust flew up over the road and the sky emptied of the usual birds flying overhead. The wind began to slap at the stone of the hut's walls. She dreaded the violent nature of the coastal storms usually brought to Dun Geata by the wind. She moaned deeply and staggered into the hut, with the unpleasant company of her own imagination.
She bypassed the first room and reeled into the bedchamber. She pitched herself onto the top of Bruic's bed and brought the furs he'd slept on to her face. She drew a deep breath. How had she fallen into this hellhole of caring? She'd been so careful not to form attachments-all her life. This time her heart refused to heed any kind of logic.
She had a premonition one of her nightmares would visit her this night. Her eyes filled. The pounding on the side of her head increased. Pain twisted sharply through the spaces in her heart. She dashed stray tears from her cheeks. Her mind became blank, her feelings deadened. Everything inside her went numb, and she allowed herself to float away into a deep sleep of unbridled unhappiness and exhaustion.
~*~
Late in the evening, thunder and lightning struck the area. Heavy rain pelted the hut in a steady rhythm. Kellach wanted to make a small fire in the pit, just to lighten up the room, but she was too tired to bother and went directly back to Bruic's bed and climbed up onto it. She drew his furs close around her face for the comfort his smell still gave her.
Falling in and out of sleep, her dreams vivid and frightening, she tossed and turned, the furs still clutched tightly to her body. Around midnight, the storm released its full fury, and she rolled off the bed.
Barely awake, she slogged her way into the front room to leave the door open a tad. If Grian wanted to return for a short visit, he could push the door open further with his broad nose and heavy shoulders. Then she remembered, she had given him to Olwen and the lad. Although she would have been glad of the hound's company this night, she was equally glad she had settled him in a good home. The hound was so fond of young Toryn, and Fergus, as well.
Spurts of wind-tossed rain flew in the opened door and dampened the floor. Kellach stepped back quickly. Getting wet wasn't what she cared to do at the moment. She only wanted to fall into an untroubled sleep and sleep for days on end into an untroubled time.
A huge yawn erupted from her mouth. She arched and rolled her neck in an attempt to loosen the tight muscles there, and returned to the bed. Even with the storm raging outside, the hut was warm and cozy, so she lay atop the furs but snuggled her face into them. Just as she was drifting off again, she thought she heard a slight noise, like the door being pushed open further. Assuming it was the hound, she sunk into sleep, feeling better because he was there to protect her.
~*~
No guards had been posted along any of the barricades or in the yard. That made Bruic wary. It also gave him the opportunity to enter the compound with no alarm given.
Garbed in black leather and dark colors from his vest to his high-topped boots, he slithered sideways through the partially open door and stood quietly to one side to catch his breath. His eyes widened in a careful search of the room, alert for any motion. Softly, as he leaned against the perimeter wall of the front room, wishing he could storm across and gather Kellach in his arms, he listened for a warning sound in the yard or hut. Slowly, the placement and shapes of the few chairs and benches became clear. He began to move slowly toward the bedchamber, careful not to make any sound.
He looked for the dog and was grateful not to find him there. At least, no bark or welcoming yip would signal others of his presence or disturb the fort's compound. The sound of his own quickening breath filled his ears. He tiptoed into the bedchamber. Although he could not see clearly, Kellach's small pallet was still tucked under the bed. He thought he saw a lump on the big bed
He stepped closer until he could see her plainly in the slight light caused by the lightning. Lines and furrows creased her forehead and indicated tension. How could he explain four days away, especially after his drunken display the other day? His emotions took a dive. If only they were as easy to heal as his body was.
Kell. He touched her with a gentleness he'd never felt before except with children. He promised himself that regardless of what might happen to him, he would put himself in hell just to make sure this woman and his children were safe. Kell. Wake up, lass.
Her breathing sounded even, but when he touched her he felt shivers trickle down her spine. She shuddered.
The strong scent of leather drew a half-awakened Kellach into a dream-like state. Again she shuddered in an attempt to keep her fear caged. She felt a wild scream move from her chest into her throat. A large hand extended toward her and flattened against her mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a hulking mass standing by the side of the bed, a huge form shadowed by a short instance of moonlight. Raw emotions nearly drowned her. She grasped the straw mattress and pulled. Her fisted hands helped her clamber onto the top of the furs in a catlike move.
The iron hand across her mouth didn't move. She looked over it trying to think. Bruic always kept a long sharp dagger under the downy cushion that supported his head. The hand over her mouth was suffocating. She bit and was pushed away. She was momentarily free of the hand. She knew a scream would not bring anyone fast enough and dropped to the bed. Her hands stretched under the cushion, until her fingers grasped the hard wooden handle of the dagger.
The man's hands were groping for her in the dark, trying to find her as she leapt to her feet in a fighting stance, body bent, arm unfurled with the dagger pointed at the man. Her hair fell over her shoulder in a smooth waterfall, a lock sticking in her eye. From habit, she blew the hair away from her face. The harder she clutched the dagger; the more fear flowed down her back.
Kell. It's me, Bruic, he whispered. It's all right, lass. I'm here. He made no move.
She stared into the dark and forced herself to look at this apparition. She had the eerie feeling his eyes connected with hers. His face came into view. Her mouth went dry, her knees weak, and the dagger fell from her hand to the bed. She wanted to throw herself in his arms and pound him to the floor in the same instance.
She could barely string two words together but pushed some past her clenched teeth. Have you come back to plague me further? she questioned in her normal, biting tone, but there was desperation in her shaky voice.
With measured breath, Bruic hissed, Keep your voice down. They mustn't know I'm here. His disturbing voice, the intensity of his gaze, seared her.
She felt ashamed of her sharp tone but refused to back down. The biting edge to her voice gave her a childish satisfaction as she questioned him in a sarcastic purr. Who mustn't know you're here? Lunn? Fergus?
I have no time for explanations. Fergus will understand everything when he sees you gone. Lunn will do whatever he has to do to get you back. They will support each other until this is all sorted out. He raised his hand. Now will you please come down off that bed? We must hurry…
His expressionless face and flat announcement made her defenses rise. Hurry? For what reason? She pushed her hair back from her face and caught sight of a quick grimace passing over his face.
We must be back on the ship within the hour. You need to gather some clothes to take with you on the journey.
Her hands flew to her hips in a stubborn gesture and she teetered on the bed. Clothes? Take with me? Where? What journey?
We go to Dublin.
What's the matter? Your Elva is not enough for you? She paused, stopped by the expression on his face-fierce, war-like. I'm not going anywhere with you.
Yea, you are. I'm not leaving you here with that jackal and his men. He had no rights to her, but the very thought of her with any other man jarred his insides. The idea alone flooded him with rage.
I'm not going anywhere. That jackal has agreed to find my mother, she said.
Bruic lifted his eyebrow at her refusal to cooperate. He moved to the wall hooks and began tossing her clothing over his shoulder. It's raining hard. I suggest you get your heaviest shawl. You'll be chilled on the water.
I'm not going anywhere. I will not leave my clan. She jumped off the bed and stamped over to him, grabbing the garments from his shoulder and tossing them to the ground. I am not going to Dublin or anywhere else with you.
I hate to keep telling you, but you are. I have no intention of allowing you to stay with Morfinn, Ronan and their men, while I'm not here.
What is this, really? Are you jealous of Ronan? Because he seeks to steal your servant, your slavey, away from you? Her voice pitched higher with each word she uttered, while she fought an instinctive urge to reach out to him.
Quiet your tongue, woman, he said harshly.
She tried to put a distance between herself and this disturbing specimen of a man. He whirled and drew her to his chest. He pierced her with eyes in a face that was rugged, dark and brooding. The sight of his sculptured mouth, strong bones, and the shocking intensity of dark blue eyes, flashing and warning, captured her attention.
A ball of heat unfurled in her stomach at his very touch. At the moment, nothing seemed of any importance save this man who held her. When he reached down to her with slightly parted lips, she reached up for him. With her hands locked around the back of his neck, his hungry mouth came down to feed on hers. Her mouth was as starved, as desperate and rough as his.
The movement of his lips on hers was sensuous, hard-driving yet soft and mobile. Everything else about him was hard, bold and ravenous. His hand slid down to her buttocks, lifting her and pulling her tighter to him, to his sturdy thighs.
His face was heated with desire, flaming with need. Kellach was dizzy, her world spinning with sensations. She gazed at him briefly and then moved her lips over his face and neck, taking tiny tastes. His mouth caught hers again and his lips traced the curves of her lips and hid in one corner for a moment before continuing their journey.
The time for intimacy was not now. Bruic tore his mouth away. Shush…
What's wrong? she asked. The sound of someone's footsteps, stealing quietly toward the cottage, became distinct.
Get back on the bed. Pretend to sleep. I'll be behind the door to the room. Let me take care of things.
Aye. In a flash, Kellach jumped up on the big bed. Instinctively her fingers reached for the dagger she had dropped. She cupped its handle and placed the hand that held it under one of the furs. She lay as still as she could, while her heart pounded hard enough to break out of her body.
Kell? a voice inquired softly. Are you awake, lass? I need to talk with ye, Fergus said in a loud whisper.
Are you alone? Kellach whispered in a questioning voice.
Aye, lass. I'm coming through the front room to ye, he said quietly. I've figured some things out and need to tell you of my findings.
Kellach swung her feet off the bed and tucked the dagger into her waistband. She stood and waited for Fergus to cross the room.
Whatever you do, lass, don't light a candle. I don't want anyone but Lunn or Olwen to know I'm here.
Why not? Bruic asked, coming out from his hiding place behind the door.
Fergus, trained fighting man that he was, stepped back into the doorway in a defensive position even though he recognized his friend and leader. Och, Bru. You're back. And it's thankful I am at that.
As I am. I don't have much time, Fergus, so listen to me and listen carefully. I am only here to take Kellach with me. Morfinn and his men high jacked me and threw me onto the ship with Valdi. They told him they'd kill me if he didn't take me with him. He had no choice.
But you're here, Fergus said. How long do you intend to stay?
We leave immediately for Dublin. We'll look for the twins and Kellach's sister. When we find them, we will come back here. You and Lunn, be prepared.
What do you expect me to do in the meantime?
Continue to fortify as you have been doing. Do not upset your captors. Let them think they have taken over all of An Dun Geata without any problems.
I don't like the idea of not fighting them off. I know Lunn will want to disperse them as well. Fergus went to Bruic with his arms open. It will be as you say, Bru. Lunn and I will ready the clan for your return.
Fergus, if anyone sees you leave the hut, stall them. Tell them you went to check on Kellach and she's asleep.
Aye, Bru.
The two men embraced and Fergus left as silently as he had come.
Bruic turned to Kellach. Pick up the clothes from the floor. You'll need them if our journey is longer than I want. I know you don't wish to come with me, lass, but I fear for your safety with those two savages. Please, Kell, don't fight me on this. We will come back here. I promise.
How can you leave in such a storm, Bruic? This foul weather will not stop for a while, Kellach said, shoving clothing into the same sack she had used when she arrived at this hut.
We have to get out of the fort area safely and to the ship. Morfinn and his men came inland on horses. They could catch us along the road if they are somehow alerted to our leaving. Once we get out of the bay, they'll not be able to catch us.
Bruic, why did you come back for me? Kellach stared at him. I need to know why, she said softly.
He came up to her and gave her a light kiss on the mouth. You are my woman.
She buried herself in his sheltering warmth for only a moment before he released her and slid to the door to check outside the hut. She came behind him and he grasped her hand.
Come…
Hands together, the two ran like silver fish in the sea. Their bodies hugged the stone barricades to the gate and they sidled around it. Nothing stirred in their path. Once on the road, they fled to the ship in a torrent of rain.
Chapter Nineteen
>After rounding the southwest coast of Gael, the Norse ship headed east, hugging the southern shore of the island. As dusk approached each night, the men lowered the square sail and manually rowed into tiny coves, hoping those inlets less likely to be inhabited by marauding Gaels who wanted to attack them. Once on shore, they slid the ship up onto circular logs and dragged heavy anchors onto the land to hold the boat secure.
Wherever the ship nestled, the Norsemen stayed alert for possible danger to their safe passage.
During long days, the men went about their duties and ignored both Kellach and Elva, who were left to their own devices to amuse themselves in whatever fashion suited them. They were forced to talk to each other. By the sixth night of the journey they had become easier with each other. Kellach soon realized that although Elva and Bruic had a relationship of sorts, it was Valdi the girl wanted to claim for her own.
For some inexplicable reason, the late summer weather suddenly turned sluggish, heavy with unbearable heat and no wind.
The calm before the storm. Bruic stood at the forward stem post, one hand resting on the Badger-head ornament and his eyes focused on the sky. With a grim expression, he mumbled to Valdi, I don't like the looks of this.
Neither do I, the smaller man responded, moving closer. Even with the sail fully hoisted, the ship doesn't move far. The same shoreline has been visible for miles.
It's too hot to row. Let the men sit idle for a time. We'll wait this out and see what happens. Bruic turned to the rest. Extra water rations for all. But, drink sparingly.
Too hot to move much right now, Badger, claimed a sailor, sitting on the deck and leaning against his sea chest.
Far to the west, the sky slowly turned darker. Thunder rolled, softly then louder, coming closer. Streaks of lightning flashed in the distance. A play of light dove into the sea.
There's your storm. Should help us to move forward, Valdi said.
It's hard to tell what direction it's going in, but it looks like it's headed our way. Bruic moved toward the tiller at the side.
A slight wind came up. It grew stronger and the purpled clouds moved closer. More thunder rumbled, closer each moment.
Valdi, Bruic called. This is moving fast…
And in our direction. It's going to be vicious.
Waves grew larger with each gust of air. They rolled one way then another. Water sloshed in over the sides. Some of the men began bailing with whatever implements they could find. The wind blew harder, filling the sail and taking the ship further out to sea.
Bruic called over the wind. The wind's coming in the wrong direction. It's blowing us away from the coastline. We'd better get into Waterford harbor. Let this sea wear itself out.
We'll not make the bay at Waterford before nightfall with this squall coming up. It's a bit far, Valdi bellowed. He turned to the men to give orders. Let's work, men. Take down the sail and row as if a devil were in your shirts.
Ulf, Bruic shouted, pointing to a particularly heavy-set man. Some of you others as well. Help me lower the mast. Men, pull as you've never pulled before.
Sailors moved everywhere at once. Some dragged their sea chests to positions near the oars. With precision, oars were taken out of the stowage crutch and secured in their openings. Thirty men sat on the chests, fifteen on each side. One man stood at the front and called a cadence to those rowing. Each rower grabbed an oar and began to pull in hard strokes, in rhythm with other rowers.
The ship shot forward. Several sailors grabbed rigging lines connected to the linen sail flapping mightily in several different headings. They wound the lines around their arms, trying to control the direction and taking in cloth at the same time. Hanging on for his life's sake, one of the Norsemen scurried up the mast and released the pin holding the crossbeam to it.
Toward shore, men, Bruic cried into the wind. He pulled Valdi close to him and spoke directly into his ear. We have to get the ship to shore. Now! If what's coming is what I think it is, we'll never last on the water.
Yea. Valdi went to the front and bellowed into the ear of the man calling strokes. We've got to get to shore, as quickly as we can.
Yea, Valdi. We'll do it, the man responded. You, he said to a man next to him, go to the head of the ship and watch for rocks in the sea as we near the coastline. Signal with your arms.
The man nodded and raced to the prow of the ship. He climbed onto a sea chest and held on to the stem post. Water poured in and knocked him off. He grabbed a rope and tied himself to an empty shield port on the starboard side.
The ship tossed and rolled. Kellach and Elva clung to each other. They sat in water up to their knees. It became difficult to distinguish between the rain driving at the ship and the seawater flowing over the sides.
The wild violence of the ocean turned in their wake. It slashed at the boat like a silver blade slashing at a person. All they could hear was the piercing, low rumble of the surf. All about them, rocks jutted out from the shore and seemed to tumble toward the sea.
Fury and courage inspired them all. The men manned the ship, doing whatever was necessary to reach shore. They had no time for reassurances. Night descended earlier than usual. In darkness, prayers were sent heavenward and the vessel plowed on through the rough seas.
~*~
Into early evening, water gushed from the sky in bigger surges than those of the sea from which they had miraculously escaped. The sailors and warriors had rolled the ship onto the logs, pitched tents and were left to guard the ship. Bruic, Kellach, Valdi and Elva, their clothing drenched and clinging to their bodies, struggled on rain-soaked grasses in an effort to reach the monastery on the hillside, for hoped-for sanctuary.
Hands clasped together in a string, the four stopped at the top of a sharp incline. No one spoke. Facing them in a seamless stretch of stone, high walls surrounded the monastery.
With only a narrow footpath to stand on, they held onto the wall and edged themselves around it in a search for the entranceway. Bruic, being the tallest of the four, was the first to see the high bell encased by a decaying arch. Its frayed rope hung down across a thick wooden door, behind pillars of stone.
He reached up, pulled its shortened length from a sheltering crust of mud and wattle and then shook the rope back and forth with vigor. The bell clanged a dense note. Mud from the rope pelted them, dirtying clothes earlier cleansed by the rain. Finally, the bell rang true every time the clapper hit the sides, as if it enjoyed its journey from one side to the other.
No one came in answer to the sound, so Bruic rang it again and again, louder and louder until a small window of wood opened inside the frame of the door. It swung to one corner and a quivery voice asked, Who goes there on such a bleak and desolate night?
Bruic the Badger requests entrance, sanctuary from the storm, he said in his most formal Gaelic.
The disembodied voice replied, You weren't to return so quickly, milord. How many do you have with you this time?
You've been here before? Kellach questioned in a whisper but got no answer.
Only four of us await your pleasure, sir. My men stay with our ship to keep it safe and hidden from all, and to repair what might be necessary after a perilous journey along the coast.
A polite cough rent the air. The windowed passage closed. One side of the large, thick double doors squeaked opened to allow them entrance to an inner courtyard. Enter, quickly. Do not dawdle.
No sooner had the four come through the opening than the door slammed shut behind them, as if on some kind of spring. A huge block of wood stood by the side of the entrance. Bruic lifted it in one hand and replaced it in its ironwork pegs to again bar the door.
Two figures shrouded in brown robes and face-covering hoods stood to one side of the doorway. An oiled torch, held by the delicate-looking hand of a young man, wavered in the gloom. With a single wave of a hand, a shorter, older monk indicated they should follow him. He turned and led the way to a nearby stone building, a reception center of sorts, where he stopped at a mud-encrusted door.
He pushed on what looked like a shaded portion of the wall. With a groan of disuse, a door slid inward. Darkness crept from the lone room in front of them, until the younger one preceded them in lighting the room. The lad jammed the flaming torch into a fixture on the wall and left without having spoken a word.
The other one, far more direct, turned to them. They stared. His elderly face was every bit as gnarled as his hands.
He pointed. Wood and peat are in a pile to your left. The pit is directly ahead of you. Light a healing fire to warm you and dry your clothing. I will return with one you seek.
I would prefer to speak whoever is now in charge, if you please, Bruic stated clearly.
I do not know if it would please the lady, the monk responded with considerable rudeness. She does not enjoy awakening in the night, but I will inquire as to her preference. I suggest you make yourselves as comfortable as you can here, for I may not return until daylight if that is what she wishes. With those words, the monk bowed and left them to their own devices.
Valdi broke the silence. Perhaps we ought to take the monk's advice and light a fire. I could stand a bit of warmth.
I'll set it up, Bruic said, getting some of the wood and several pieces of peat. Someone get the torch to light it at the base. With little effort, he slid to his knees and bent to his task of building a small tent-like structure in the center pit.
Elva brought over the torch and held it to the carefully laid pile. That ought to do it.
Kellach asked, What can I do to help?
On one knee, Bruic swiveled around to face her. He sat back on his heels. Kell, I'm sorry I brought you and Elva into this sort of danger. I have a bad feeling about this place. It's changed since I was first here. The expression on his face was grim. I don't know what I was thinking, except for wanting you by my side and thinking I could keep you both safe.
Don't apologize. Perhaps it was best for me to leave the clan when I did. Lunn, Fergus and Olwen know how to keep things in check for everyone. They won't let the clan down. The only upsetting thing is that neither Ronan nor Morfinn will seek out my mother, now that I have fled. It is not to be, I suspect.
She went to Bruic and pushed some of his long black hair up off his broad forehead. She took a log from his hands and placed it on the flames already rising from the pit. If it hadn't been for the storm, we'd be on our way to Dublin. She smiled at him. Let's build the fire high; then, with a bit of warmth in our bodies, we can figure out our next move.
Yea, we'll do whatever it is we have to do, Valdi said, an unusually expansive smile on his face. Besides, I do not mind spending a night on shore… He looked at Elva and nodded. With such desirable company…
The lowering of her eyelids and her soft responsive grin seemed to light up the room more than the torch had done. To be on shore with any kind of company is good this night.
The banter lightened their spirits somewhat. Kellach found herself smiling at the younger woman. Aye, we're lucky to be alive, she sighed. Quickly she became her bossy self. Elva, take off your cloak. We'll dry both of ours by the fire, Kellach said, taking off her own. We may have to sleep in them, if the monk doesn't return with whoever is in charge, to supply us with a room.
Oh, someone will come, all right. My mother waits here for me and I know she'll be watching for me. And if she heard the bell, she…
Enough, Elva, Bruic said quietly. You'll see your mother soon enough and will have much to tell her, I'm sure. But now is not the time for such conversation.
Kellach stared at him, perturbed. Bruic, stop. That was very unpleasant. If the lass wishes to speak of her mother, it's all right. I, for one, would love to hear of the woman. She turned to Elva, whose face had paled. It's all right, Elva. Speak if you like.
Elva backed up a bit, away from the fire, and turned her face toward Valdi. It's not necessary. I will certainly see her by tomorrow, and I shouldn't be talking about her when you're missing your own mother, Alma-for so very long. She looked at Kellach with sadness. Besides, the Norsewomen here don't like to be disturbed at night. She sighed, almost despairingly.
Has your mother come to learn about a religious order? Kellach asked. She was puzzled both as to how Elva knew so much about Alma and why any woman would choose a secluded profession when she had such a lovely daughter to care for. Maybe the woman was a servant here.
About to say something, she stopped. She looked at Valdi and then at Bruic. To Kellach, Elva seemed uncomfortable. Finally, she answered tersely, in a bitter voice. My mother stays here to avoid a man she hates, the man who killed my father in an unfair fight.
Sorry to have caused the girl a moment of pain, Kellach said, I understand. I have often thought of becoming a nun. I would prefer to dedicate my life to God than to a man I do not care for; particularly one whom I suspect has deliberately hurt my clan at times. She half-turned and looked at Bruic. And my saying this surprises me. You have not hurt anyone, since you arrived at An Dun Geata. I had not taken that fact into consideration until now.
Quickly, Bruic crossed the room to her side. He lifted her chin and stared into her golden-green eyes. Then you know the truth about me. I would have you for wife, if you would marry with me.
The love she knew she felt for this man flowed from her with astonishing ease, but she hesitated. I care far too much for you to do that. Due to what the Druids have wrenched from my previous marriages, the lives of each and every husband, I cannot ever marry again, unless my mother is found to remove the dark curse from me.
Does it have to be your own mother? Perhaps mine will do. I'll introduce you to her in the morning.
Having finally gotten the fire to glow appreciably hot, Valdi spoke up before anyone else could answer. Introducing your mother may not do the trick, but finding a priest might help more. I have heard these priests of Gael have ways of changing the lives around them.
It's a thought, Bruic said, but I think…
A tapping on the door interrupted their conversation.
Come, Bruic said in a loud, authoritative voice as if happy for the interruption.
A tall Norsewoman of unparalleled beauty flew into the room, a brown cape flowing in back of her, her hood thrown off, her braids loose. Her very manner suggested she was in a position of importance in the monastery. Och, 'tis you, Badger. I might have known. What poor creatures have you brought to my door this time?
Greetings, milady Dyrfinna, I have brought you riches beyond your most fervent dream. Two lovely ladies. One you met when her mother arrived. Elva, he said, pushing the girl forward into a slight kneel. And this is Kellach, my wo…my servant.
The woman placed her hand on Elva's head, but at the mention of the Kellach's name, she took it off, came forward to stand in front of Kellach and move her closer to the light. Frightened by the woman's intense gaze, Kellach fell to her knees and pulled the heavy cross she had fingered so actively during the storm to the outer part of her damp tunic. My lady…
Dyrfinna studied her with deep brown, intelligent eyes, eyes that seemed to see inside the person. So you are the Kellach I've heard so much about.
Aye, lady. I am she. But I don't understand. I do not wish to be rude, but why would my name mean anything to you?
Are you not the Black Bride of the peninsula? When Kellach looked down at the floor and nodded, Dyrfinna continued, Word of your beauty has spread throughout the island. Stand up, young lady.
Bruic intervened. I have just asked the lass to be my wife. She will if the curse upon her can be removed. He stared at the Norsewoman with intensity as if trying to communicate a secret message. I would have it so.
She stared back at him. Her rich colored eyes gleamed with an added twinkle. Will Olaf approve? What with the curse upon the girl? He would not want to lose you. Perhaps, a priest can remove such a curse as you…
Then find me one, mistress. Find me the most intelligent, most perfect priest there is, Bruic said with added emphasis.
Nae, Kellach said. Tears rolled from her eyes and down her face. I have been to priest after priest. Each has tried to relieve me of the Druid's curse. Each failed and another man died. When they failed on so many occasions, they told me only my mother can remove a Druid's curse. Even if she can't remove the affliction, I would see her. Somehow, I must find her if only to gaze upon her once more.
Dyrfinna's face paled and she took Elva's arm. I will take you to see your mother, right now. Come with me, lass.
Valdi, who had said little but watched the by-play avidly, came forward. I would see Elva's mother as well. I would like her permission to marry with her daughter before we leave this monastery.
Her mouth agape, Dyrfinna turned and studied Valdi. Then you come with me, too. She spun around. I leave you two here. With all propriety, I hope. I will fetch you both in the morning, she said as she went out the door to the courtyard.
Kellach went to the door and stared after those leaving. What a majestic Norsewoman.
Yea, she is that. She is the second woman to Olaf, but he has banished her to this place, Bruic responded, coming in back of Kellach and watching with her. He bent his head. But come inside. Your clothing is still damp. You'll catch a chill.
Kellach spun around and bumped into him. He hadn't moved. He caught her around the waist so she wouldn't fall and drew her closer. He shoved the door with his foot and held her tighter in a firm grip. He lifted her up in his arms, but set her down on a wooden bench, nearer to the fire. Kellach, you were meant to be mine, from the first day I saw you on the beach. I have always known the brave little girl there was to be mine someday.
That's nonsense and you know it. You were only after being a child yourself. You couldn't have known those things. Besides… She smiled up at him, unable to finish when she saw the look in his eyes.
His dark blue gaze raked over her. I know; things got in the way, things like our separation and the lives we had to live. Our circumstances were so different, yet similar. Thinking of you pulled at me, through all the years I stayed with the Norse, through all the years I fought for them.
But stay you did. Did you not ever wish to run away? Each time my life became more complicated, because of having no parents to guide me, I wanted to run away. Without Lunn, I would have died. He tried to help, but he could not go against the king's decrees.
And you stayed as well, despite the adversities that faced you.
A woman alone does many things she doesn't wish to do. Just to survive. Always with hope. Kellach stood and moved to a wider padded bench stuck against the wall but didn't sit. She dragged it over to the fire then sat, allowing the fire to mesmerize her.
Finally she turned to Bruic, who hadn't moved. I must find my mother. She swayed and pleaded. Please, take me to her. You know where she is. I think Elva does, too, but I do not want to burden such a young lass. Even if my mother cannot remove the curse, I would see her and my younger sister. I have such a need inside me…
Tears fell from her eyes. One or two splattered from her cheek, another from her hand, onto the fire. It hissed and she moaned. Am I never to complete that part of my life, that part of me which is so horrible mangled?
Bruic sat on the bench with her. He drew her head to his shoulder and held her gently in his arms. He kissed her forehead. Kellach, I love you. I truly do. All thought of other women left my heart the moment I saw you again. I would give anything to make you happy, but I cannot break a promise given to one who cared for me as a mother in my troubled youth.
He turned Kellach to face him squarely. Please understand. Alma made me want to live again. She brought wondrous stories of Gael with her, and the language. She instructed me, secretly, for it was forbidden.
She looked up at him, seeing the agony of his former captivity on his face. That agony and his inability to break a vow to the very person who had helped him survive was tearing at him.
A groan welled up inside her and her words came as a result. I do not blame you, Bruic. She reached up and pulled his head down so his mouth met hers. Heat wrapped around her like gigantic hands.
Even in his shock, both his arms went around her. He lifted her up onto his lap, but he couldn't draw his mouth from hers. He was greedy, already hard as the stone of the room. Her lips became more pliant by the minute. His tongue licked the tops of them and nestled into the corners to tickle and tease.
Her tongue darted to spar with his. A shudder ran through her when they touched, so gently she wasn't even sure where his mouth was. She had never felt this way before. Heat bubbled through her, so warm. She wanted to remove her clothing, his clothing, to feel his skin against hers.
His mouth drew hers deeper. His tongue explored and ravaged the inside of her mouth, the tip caressing. His huge hands came from her waist and followed the line of her body to her breasts. He cupped one in his hand and rubbed a thumb over the nipple. Kellach gasped, panted as a wave of desire ran through her. She almost went limp in his arms, so surprise was she at the sensation. His mouth still covered hers, moving with more and more effortless pressure, his tongue dueling with hers.
Her limpness must have spurred him on for he lifted her arms, broke the kiss momentarily and slipped her tunic off. Not knowing how to respond, she lifted his and did the same. Both tunics fell to the floor onto her now dry cape. They landed in a heap, a short space from the fire pit
Without taking his hand away from her breast, Bruic eased her down onto the fallen clothing. One hand cupped her head gently. Her arms opened to accept him. She moaned, not knowing for sure what it was she wanted.
She brought his mouth to hers again with a warm thrill spilling into her. She touched every part of his face with her lips. Her tongue did a dance on his lips as he had done on hers. She couldn't get enough of him.
He groaned into her mouth. You're killing me, he murmured into her ear.
His words drove her into even more sensual thoughts. Aye, but I think I'm dying with you, she mumbled, her voice huskier than ever before.
His feisty tongue found its way onto the lobe of her ear. He grabbed it with his mouth and sucked it lightly, delicately putting the tip of his tongue further into the canal, exploring with soft prickly touches. She writhed beneath him, her whole body on fire.
Without her even being aware, her under blouse came off. She rolled on top of him, straddled his waist and removed his shirt. She had seen him naked before but had never examined him as she did now, with little kisses over his broad chest.
A smattering of black hair greeted her eyes and a hipbone touched between her legs. Without conscious thought, she rubbed against it. Sensations rocketed through her. She squirmed.
His fingers came up to her bared breast. He tweaked the nipple. Her body turned to instant heat when he braced himself on his elbow and took the nipple into his mouth. She nearly shrieked with pleasure.
He slid her down his body and rolled her under him, one arm around her back. At the same time, his other hand went beneath her skirt. His mouth laved her breast and nipple. He seemed to be all over her, around her.
His lips took hers again. His hands tickled the inside of her thighs. She wriggled against him in a most enticing way. His lips and tongue worked on her mouth with increasing passionate force. His fingers found their way to her lower lips. He stroked her, first with one finger then two. She could barely breathe. Her heart raced as if she would never catch up with it.
With a swift gesture, his mouth took her tongue and sucked it in and out. His two fingers went inside her body, while his thumb stroked the surrounding regions. Something was happening to her. Her breath nearly stopped. She gasped, hovering on the edge of something.
Her heart raced with the most furious beat she had never experienced, even in the worst of her nightmares. Everything inside of her mind and body centered on his fingers but her fingers did their own exploring. She panted and gasped. Her legs involuntarily moved apart to accommodate his body between them.
She was waiting, waiting. His pants were down near his knees and a glorious part of his body hung tense and suspended. He continued kissing her and stroking her mouth with his tongue. With several deft maneuvers he managed to kick one pant leg down and off his leg. He lifted her up toward him. Her skirt fell up to her hips. He eased into her slowly, then quickly. He lay still for a moment.
Kellach felt a sharp, instantaneous pain, gasped, but curled her legs around his back. His thumb continued to caress a spot on her lower body. With infinite patience, he inched his way further and further into her. Each time he moved in he would slowly remove himself a little.
Her body trembled under his assault and she began to respond to his inward and outward motions. With snail-like and measured strokes they pleasured each other, teasing. Kellach trembled with renewed power. She wanted. She craved.
His muscles were lean and taut. He was like a great beast ready and eager to kill or seduce. With an unexpected suddenness, they began to buck and plunge, neither able to satisfy the rising excitement until they completed the task.
All of a sudden, her body elevated toward him with extra force. She shook and cried out. Warmth crept over her whole body. It took her to another space that contained nothing but this man in front of her. She shuddered, unable to stop the tremors rising from her body. She felt his body respond in the same way. They each peaked and fell into a groaning, gasping, clutching embrace.
Chapter Twenty
>They spent the night making love and telling each other stories of their lives since the fateful day at the beach. Bruic told her everything he remembered about his parents, his life as a slave and his need to become a warrior in order to survive in the Northern Isles. He mentioned his unwanted marriage, his happiness over the birth of his twin sons and his desire to settle in Gael. Kellach had told him the circumstances of her many marriages, none of which were ever consummated, due to the deaths of the husbands, and of her continued unhappiness over the loss of her mother. And they slept…
Bruic awoke first. He looked down at her. Further awareness of the love he bore her overwhelmed him and he imagined their life together. His groin tightened at the thought of it. This time, he ignored it. Instead, he rolled onto his side, edged his arm out from beneath Kellach's shoulders and propped himself up onto his elbow-just to watch her as she slept.
The idea of waking her so early, prior to the light of dawn, was abhorrent to him, but unfortunately, it was necessary. He groaned slightly, swallowed the groan in his throat and sat up. His muscles ached from the efforts he had expended holding the ship on course during the freak storm. Once the ship was secured on shore, his wet clothing and the trek up a long hill to the monastery had added to his discomfort and supreme fatigue. The subsequent night of lovemaking had left him replete but enervated.
He wondered how, or even if, he could explain these exquisite feelings to Kellach or his more pragmatic thoughts about the Dark Druid, whom Bruic believed had never placed a curse on her. Everything having to do with curse was too easy, too simple, and too coincidental. Curses didn't work in such a fashion. Some man had made up the story, a man to whom she had given her trust. He was sure of his belief, and also sure it was the same man who left her innocent reputation to the superstitious nature of the Gaels. The man would pay, Bruic silently vowed to himself. He would pay for an entire lifetime of her extraordinary suffering.
He looked down at the woman he so admired and loved. Exhaustion showed in the dark smudges under her eyes, eyes that gleamed so bright and shiny last night, and in the paleness of her lovely, freckled face.
She had become more precious to him with each day. He wanted to take care of her, to live with her forever. How could he let her know the strength of his desire to see the two of them wed, Druid's curse or not?
Knowing there were few moments left to waste before they were disturbed, he slid from under the cloak covering his bare body and stood, stretching his shoulders in one direction then the other. He looked about the cavernous room. His clothing lay strewn upon the floor. A sleeve of his shirt had landed in the coals and sported a shriveled burn mark to the elbow. He bent, picked up a pair of leggings and slipped them on for propriety's sake, in case one of the sisters came to summon them.
The fire had withered to bright, molten coals. Taking scraps from the nearby pile, Bruic threw some chips of wood onto the coals. They caught within seconds. He fanned the small flame by tossing logs and peat on top to provide warmth in the chilly stone room and waving his arms to create a draft. Sparks flew up to the ceiling. Although his motion felt disjointed, he jumped out of the way quickly.
He walked to the door, opened it without making a sound and scanned the large courtyard. The magnificent structure, the main part of this monastery loomed in the distance. At the back of the building, its outer walls were attached to the walls of stone surrounding the entire compound, forming a tall block to any sort of surprise attack. A small, well-groomed graveyard was off to one side, nearer to the enclosed church, an iron fence protecting it.
He sighed. As much as he hated to disturb Kellach, she needed to be awakened. They must be ready for the summons that was sure would come before too long. He shrugged. The monks would want the lass relieved of the curse-if they believed in such things. Regardless of their beliefs, they would make some attempt to rid Kellach of her fixation on the Druids. But what of Alma? What were her feelings in all of this?
What wakes you so early? You look so manly standing there at the door, milord. She had a grin on her face.
The chuckle following her words filled him with joy. Chills ran up his spine. In less than an instant, his body reacted to the smile in her voice and his leggings grew tight at his groin.
What are you doing awake this early, lass? he asked, closing the door and turning toward her, unashamed of his burgeoning erection.
Admiring your body.
His body tortured him by reacting even further.
Kellach giggled and pulled her cloak over her head. No, please. Don't come near me. You have exhausted me but I cannot resist you.
That's all in my favor, I would think. Bruic laughed to see her peeking out from under the cloak, looking for his reaction. He grinned at her. But this is not the time. I'm sure we'd be discovered and embarrassed. We'd best get fully dressed and ready for company. I'm sure the members of this household rise early, before dawn, I believe.
No sooner had he spoken than someone beat on the door, the taps as if from a wooden cane. They were sharp and loud.
In a minute, he shouted.
Fortunately, Kellach had used her cloak as a bed covering and her saffron shirt as a pillow the night before. Although close at hand, the shirt was wrinkled and dirty. Nevertheless, she pulled the grimy garment over her head and wriggled out from under the cloak. Bruic hurled her skirt and tunic over to her with one hand and a chuckle. He drew his own shirt over his head and tied the laces in the front. His mail tunic slipped over his head easily.
Kellach leaped to her feet and yanked the skirt up over her body and fixed the cord at her waist. She twisted around to grab her tunic from the nearby bench. That went over her head. She looked over at Bruic. He had gotten his pants on. He tied them quickly and tugged his tunic into place.
Another knock came, followed by a particularly sour male voice. I do not intend to stand here waiting for the likes of a Norseman.
Angry at the uncalled for comment, Bruic rushed to the door and threw it open. I am no Norseman, he exclaimed, looking down at a rotund monk whose hemp rope hung under his large belly.
The man's expression changed to one of wonder when he looked up and saw Bruic's size. Well now, 'tis not me place to be calling ye names, he said in a placating manner. Especially when ye're so large.
Hoping to ease his confrontational air, Bruic apologized for what he suspected the monk might have considered rudeness. I'm sorry, sir. I am Gaelic, born and bred on this island. I was spirited away many years ago.
Then why in the devil's name are ye working for the Norse, laddie? Doesn't seem right nor respectable to me, the older man said before moving back a few steps. There is much talk this morning about the mighty ship ye brought to rest inside the harbor. And the men guarding it-'tis said the sailors won't let others near, neither Norse nor Gael. Why, they're acting as if the ship were carrying precious gems or fancy goods.
It's their work to protect what's mine, Father. If they expect to get back where they came from or wherever they might want to be, they need that ship. In good condition, too, I might add.
Well, where is that wee lass I'm supposed to be seeing? 'Tis hiding on me, is she? the monk asked, trying to peek around Bruic.
Nae, I'm not hiding, for sure. Just tidying myself up for you, Father. Finishing my braid, I am, Kellach said from behind the door. I look a sight after the mishap with the ship and the rain.
Bruic stepped to one side and Kellach came from behind the door.
Why, 'tis a beauty ye are. A real daughter of this island, the monk exclaimed. Ye couldn't be cursed as they told me last night. Ye'd be old and ugly if that were the case, he said, coming forward, closer to both of them. He glanced up. Ye're both so tall, I'll be having a stiffness in my neck from the sight of ye. He chuckled then spun around toward the door. Ye do have sins to be confessing, don't ye lass?
Everyone does, to be sure. Kellach couldn't meet the man's eyes. What is it you want of me, Father?
First of all, I want ye and yer man to follow me. We go to the church, he said, moving off in the direction of the large building.
Kellach turned to Bruic. All my life, people have given me orders to follow them. Just once, I would like to do whatever I please.
Bruic's arms came around her. Soon, lass, very soon. For the time being we follow, but we'll be free soon. I make that my promise to you.
Och, Badger, you're a good man, whatever country you come from. Kellach reached up and gave him a soft kiss on the mouth.
~*~
The Norsewoman Dyrfinna charged into the room and marched directly to the church's altar. There she proceeded to instruct the monk on removing the Druid's curse from the girl. He took exception to what she was saying, telling her she knew nothing about the religion of the Gaels. Within moments, their conversation escalated into an argument about who was right, who was wrong, until he gestured to her to go away with a backward motion of his hand.
Her face was red with fury. She literally dragged Bruic out of the church to another area. Bruic tried to get her to release his arm but gave up when she tightened her grip.
She stamped down the long hall at the lower end of the huge building and kept up a running conversation. Alma has requested she be allowed to speak with you. Elva, too. She waved at him to hurry. Perhaps Alma will be willing to do what you wished she'd do when you first brought her here. Anything to get her away from Olaf.
Bruic coughed. She turned to gaze at him. Now, I can't guarantee anything, but I will remain at your side throughout the discussions. I am in favor of what you propose Alma and Elva do. I will support your position.
She turned in the direction she wanted to go. I truly don't believe a mother should sacrifice one child for the sake of the others. Each is beautiful in its own way. She harrumphed. Just because she's afraid of a wee bit of rejection. Not that she doesn't deserve it. Not trying to return until now…
My lady, take a breath. Bruic said, weary of the tongue-lashing about someone who was not present to defend herself. You'll wear yourself out before you get wherever you are going in such a hurry.
She stopped in her tracks and turned to him. He almost fell over her. Her finger pointed up at his face. Let me tell you this, Badger. That woman no more belongs here with the Norse than you do. She turned around again and stomped on until she came to a huge oak door.
Why do you say that? Bruic felt like a fool, trotting after her like Grian the hound, but nevertheless he followed her to the door, stopping her before they entered by putting his hand on her shoulder and immediately taking it off. Has Alma done something untoward? he asked, not believing for a minute she could have. She was angelic, his mother in disguise.
Dyrfinna spun around. Of course not. Why would you think she could do something wrong here with all of us Norse ladies watching her every movement? Alma is a good, decent woman, and not in any way responsible for the difficulties she has had to face in life. But let's not blame the Norse.
Then why would you want her gone from here when she so wants to stay? he asked, altogether puzzled.
She wants to stay for the wrong reasons. To avoid seeing the daughter she let slide from her fingers so long ago. In fear of the daughter resenting her, I'm sure. Ridiculous!
Alma was taken by force. She didn't leave her child without much suffering on her part, Bruic insisted.
So? She feels she should have fought more, even if she had died in the attempt.
That's foolishness.
I agree. I don't know what such a fate might have accomplished, but the opportunity is here now to repair some of the damage coming from the long separation.
You know that and I know that. All we have to do is convince Alma of it, Bruic said, without much hope. He knew Alma's stubborn streak, not unlike her daughter's.
Dyrfinna shoved the door with her shoulder, coughed once and strode into the room, with Bruic close on her heels. She slammed the door shut behind him and moved off, to stand in a corner, watching, waiting to see how the meeting went between the man who loved the daughter and the woman who had rejected her under duress, without any choice in the matter.
Bruic walked past her, straight to Alma who stood, staring into space, by one of the large shelves of beautifully textured manuscripts along one wall He also saw Elva standing away from her mother. He put his hand on Alma's shoulder. The woman had grown thinner, he noticed. Lady. I am here. I have brought both your daughters to safety.
Without turning, the woman, whose mournful demeanor upset him, asked, Why have you brought the eldest here? You know I don't wish to see her after all these years. She turned and looked imploringly at the younger man in front of her. What could I say to her now? she asked, reversing her position again. Does Kellach know she is sister to my Elva?
Nay, lady. She only knows you are somewhere in Gael and she has brothers in the Northern Isles and a young sister who is hostage with my own. I have remained true to my word. Not even Elva has betrayed your confidence; although she was hard-pressed when Kellach grew angry with her.
Angry with her? Why? Alma turned to him, her hands extended to him.
Kellach fancied I was attracted to Elva. She did not know of our real relationship. I could not tell her different without telling her of you. But she has become comfortable with Elva's presence since she learned the girl treasures my ship captain, Valdi, he said, with a raised eyebrow toward Elva.
Alma grasped his arm tightly. Och, Bruic. What am I to do? I am in such deep despair. I left her to the care of others. I know nothing of what has happened in her life, except for her reputation as the Black Bride. I cannot face the eldest child of mine, my own flesh and blood. I am a poor example of everything a mother should be.
Elva rushed to her mother's side. Nay, that is not true. You have shielded us from every danger. It is not your fault Olaf took the little one, because you would not become another of his women. She wrapped her arms around her mother and hugged her tight.
Bruic spoke in a very low tone. Why will you not see her? Try it. Once you get past the barriers she has built up over the years, she is kind and gentle with a sweet, laughing nature. She is much like you in so many of her attributes.
The two turned as the door opened to admit the monk. There ye both are. I'm disturbed. Were ye planning on excluding me from this conversation about the lass I'm supposed to clear of a curse? Were ye intending to leave me without any help?
Alma moved forward and bowed her head before the man. I had no intention of leaving any of you out of this. Perhaps you do not wish to speak in front of us all.
I have very little to say, the monk announced, looking down at the floor. I have failed. Ye will have to do it yourself, milady. I cannot remove an ingrained affliction from such a stubborn child. Someone has convinced her that only ye can remove the curse upon her. I cannot interfere or overcome that.
Tears spilled from Alma's eyes. A curse? What curse? I cannot remove a curse. I have no powers, no answers to her hurt.
But unfortunately, my lady, the lass feels only ye can remove what she has been faced with throughout her life. He came forward and patted Alma' shoulder. Ye must talk to her, he said, before retiring from the room in a huff.
I don't even want to talk about her, much less to her, Alma shouted after him.
Mother, but I do. I want to talk about her, Elva cried. She is so lovely, so unhappy, so left out of everything.
I cannot see her. It pains me. What could I possibly say that would make her understand the horror I went through for years, having been torn from her in such a fashion?
Bruic came to the two women. He puts his strong arms around them and drew them closer to him, one on each side. You would tell her the truth, Alma.
Elva drew back and stared. With a slight tip of her head, she moved away from her mother and Bruic. Mother, has no one told you my sister has been cursed by the Dark Druid?
Alma wheeled around to face her daughter. What is it you are saying? What Dark Druid? What curse?
Bruic stood. His arms hung by his sides for a brief moment, then he crossed them over his chest. When Alma turned to him, he watched the expression of horror on hers. He let her stand there without seeming to pay any attention to her words.
All of a sudden, he knew the way to get Alma to relent and said, Yea. Some of her countrymen have convinced her that she is afflicted. By a Dark Druid. They have tried to insinuate it started at your-what do they call it? he mused. Ah, disappearance, they said. They say she caused you to disappear into thin air, since no trace of your body was ever found.
That's horrible, Alma cried. She raised her hands to her face in shame. Oh my heavens, what have I done to my poor girl?
That's why you must speak with her! Elva shouted, her cheek afire with color. You cannot be so cruel, Mother.
Alma, Kellach believes you, and only you, can remove the curse from her, Bruic said with force. She has been told so over and over again by people who do not love her or believe you will ever return. She was with the monk a short time ago and not for the first time. She no longer has any hope of being released from this awful affliction, except by you, her mother.
How does this curse supposedly affect her, Bruic? Alma asked, her eyes welling up with tears.
Each time she has married, the husband dies of some mysterious illness or is killed somehow by others. I'm not sure. I just know that each of her four husbands died before the marriage was ever consummated. She told me one of them was a child and shouldn't have died so. Each time one died, she has become more and more convinced of the strength of the curse and so have all the people around her.
Mother, you have to help her. I would have her for a sister, Elva said in a pleading voice.
Alma, I would have her for wife, but she will not consider it because of the Druid's curse. She fears for my life.
Alma fell to her knees. What have I done? What have I done to that poor child of mine? Her hands came up to cover her face.
Dyrfinna came forward. She lifted Alma to her feet. You have done nothing at all from your own will. It was all done to you, and in the doing of it, it affected your daughter. The lass is right. Only you can fix this, heal the wounds of her lifetime of cursed affliction. Consider, and consider carefully, milady Alma. This whole matter is of the gravest importance to many.
Alma laid her head on the Norsewoman's shoulder. I cannot think. I'm so confused. I should never have come back to Gael. She looked up and turned to face everyone in the room. Please, all of you, leave me. Go away. Let me think this through.
Dyrfinna patted Alma's back as if she were a baby. Aye, we'll leave you to your thoughts. We only hope that your choice will be wisest one of all.
Elva looked at her mother. She veered away from the scrutiny of her mother's gaze and then returned it with a look of anguish. I would have my sister…
She clasped her hands in front of her and left the room without another word.
Call me when your choice has been made. I would break it to the lass on my own if you choose contrary to what is right. Think, Alma, think carefully as Dyrfinna has said. Do not let your child live the rest of her life in misery. But know this. I will have her for wife anyway.
Dyrfinna took his arm and led him from the room. She whispered to him. Let her worry over this. I believe I know what her choice will be, but we must give her the option to choose.
Both stopped at the door, noticing that Alma was pacing from one end of the room to the other, the short cape she wore flapping behind her. They left the room and closed the door with nary a sound.
Chapter Twenty-One
>The door closed behind Bruic and Dyrfinna. Alma listened to their murmurs and solid footsteps trailing down the long hallway, until she heard them no more. They had left her to her own devices, to think, to set her course of action.
With tension, Alma paced the confines of the room in a deafening quiet for over an hour, glad and frightened about the silence. Remorse pierced her to the very core of her heart and soul.
Many years ago, when she was a young woman, she had loved her child to distraction as she had loved her child's father, Conar. She doubted any of their relatives still lived in Gael, other than Conar's cousin Lunn the Strong.
Previously, her life centered on the tiny Kellach, and Conar, her darling husband. When he died while fighting the Danes for control of Dublin, she had taken the wee babe and all their possessions across the many miles of the island. Except for an occasional ride in a cart, they had walked, or ridden on the cattle, to the peninsula where her husband's clan had once been strong. There, she found her husband's distant cousin, Lunn.
Lunn had taken Kellach and her in, treated them with warmth and sympathy and had become fond of them in the doing of it. The remainder of the clan treated her and her little lass with great respect and kindness, including the king. Many suitors came to woo Alma, including over-king Morfinn the Pale. She refused them all, preferring her solitary and simple life with Lunn and her daughter.
Alma's thoughts took another turn. Why she had not stayed with her child that day on the beach? If she'd gone where the two little girls trudged off to play, high in the dunes, she wouldn't be unraveling this situation so late in her life.
Years and years had cushioned the pain of the devastating separation. What could be gained by opening terrible wounds? Should she try to communicate with the child she had lost twenty years before, a child who might hate her?
Hate was the one thing Alma couldn't bear. She stopped herself short. No doubt, the girl wished to see her for no other reason than to remove the Druid's curse. How had such a thing happened?
From that disastrous day on the beach, and her own insecurities regarding Kellach, Alma's mind drifted to her first four years as a slave in the Northern Isles. Generally, the people ignored her except to strike if she was slow or disobedient.
Much to her distress, during her third year as a slave, she was sold back to Halvor, Bruic's original master, whom she learned to love. Halvor cared for her deeply and brought her to his home, where she bore him four children, even though they never wed. She continued to live with him until his death a little over a year ago. She should feel guilty about loving an enemy of her native people, but the man was tender and loving to her.
Bruic had been her friend throughout the years. From the moment they met on the ship after the massacre, he became her defender and remained so. Even now, when she was not sure she could give him what he seemed to want so badly-her daughter, he was her protector. When he left to come to Gael, she sensed he intended to stay there. Halvor was dead, her sons grown enough to live as they wanted. Her agreement to go with Bruic to care for the children made her life easier, she thought. Only, it wasn't turning out that way.
Her mind churned with problems. The mental wounds she had suffered were agonizing ones. She negated each and every resolution she came up with. Thinking became impossible. Suddenly, the four walls of the room pressed in on her. Her body began to tremble. Air, she needed air before the room collapsed in on her. She could no longer stay in such a confined space.
She ran to the door and threw it open. She glanced up and down the corridor. Empty. Gasping for breath, she leaned on the uprights and sucked in huge gulps of air. With a sigh of relief, she sank to the floor, braced her head against the upright, drawing in more air.
She pulled her knees up and put her arms around them. She covered her legs with as much of the brown robe as she could use and pulled the hooded cowl around her. She rested her head on her knees. Her eyes closed. She was betwixt and between, cursed in her own way, by her own mind.
~*~
Kellach knew before the monk even started, he wouldn't be able to help her. Other men of religious orders had tried before. Several of the monks on the island in the sea tried a group conversion. Each was unsuccessful in changing the patterns of her life or the people's perceptions of her. No matter what rites they performed, things continued to happen. Men died. Over the years, she had steeled her heart against the failures.
Being sorry for the monk who had tried so valiantly to help had done no good. It was bad enough that he looked guilty and on the verge of apologizing before she waved him off. When he left her, she sat in the little church, praying, clutching her hands to her breast. Although feeling somewhat cleansed, Kellach came out of the church in a dejected mood.
For a brief instant, she hated Bruic, feeling he had betrayed her in the worst way possible. She loved him too much to take a chance on his dying after the ceremony. If only he had given her a hint as to where her mother might be found, she could have considered a decent life with him. He could have spared her this additional agony.
Kellach turned a corner of the long hallway, realizing she could never marry with Bruic now. Just knowing the decision was made strengthened her resolve to leave it all behind her. She needed to get away before anyone found her. She didn't know where she could go, but go she would, and search. Yes, she would search for her mother by herself.
She glanced up and saw a woman, dressed in the decorated tunics of the Norse, who seemed to have fallen close to the wall. She ran the distance between them and hunkered down beside the woman.
Milady. Are you harmed? she questioned, trying to see the under the cowl of her outer cape.
The woman didn't answer or look up.
Lady, may I help you to rise? Kellach reached down to put her hand under the woman's elbow.,
The woman must have sensed the movement for she pushed Kellach's hand away. Go away. Leave me be. I must think. My life depends on my thinking things through, clearly.
Are you ill, lady? Do you need help?
Nay, I'm none of those things. I just want to sit here and be left alone, the Norsewoman answered in a querulous voice.
Kellach could not just stand there and do nothing. I'll get Dyrfinna. She'll know what to do. She started to move off.
Stop! Wait! I don't want to see her right now. I don't want to see anyone. I just don't feel I can go back in that dim room alone.
Kellach got on her knees beside the woman. Someone must come to help you, then.
Nay, there is no help for me, the woman cried aloud.
Kellach patted the woman's back with soft, gentle taps. Her voice rang with sincerity. Again she put her hand under her elbow. What are you afraid of? Have you committed some unpardonable sin? Are you being punished by someone for a deed done or contemplated? she asked.
The hooded cowl fell off and the woman brought her head up. Her eyes flew open. Water filled the sea-green orbs, along with a widening look of horror. My eyes are blurry. Do I know you? Your voice is familiar to my ears. Your Gaelic is reminiscent of lost days.
I'm sorry. This is the first time I've been here. I don't think… Kellach's voice caught in her throat. Tilting her head, Kellach studied the woman. Something in her features looked familiar, the striking bone structure, the high planes of the cheeks and the tendrils of wavy hair.
Kellach's heart beat as if someone was pounding a drum inside of her. She couldn't speak. The fine trembling of her body gave notice of her true feelings. She was stunned with disbelief.
The woman's unsteady fisted hand lifted to cover her mouth. She, too, studied the person in front of her. The two locked in visual combat. Neither spoke. The silence hung suspended; everything preternaturally still. In an involuntary gesture, Kellach's shaking hand went to the Norsewoman's face, cupped it and lovingly caressed it with her forefinger. The skin was soft and pliant.
The spark of absolute recognition went through them both. They stared at each other. Kellach was sweating, shuddering, as she looked deep into the woman's eyes. A tremulous smile creased her face and Kellach's tremors stopped. She stared at the woman with fervor, a note of joy threading throughout her system.
Alma made a dry gasping sound. Her mouth remained open. Shock swept away her color. She had no control of her hands as they reached to touch the face of the girl before her and, with gentle touches, stroked it.
Kellach fell into her arms and was clutched to Alma's breast. Incredible recognition swept through them.
My love, Alma murmured, trying desperately to calm herself as tears gushed from her eyes. My love. My own true love. My very heart! Why did I ever fear you? She began to cry in earnest. My longing…for you knew no bounds…I was afraid, so very afraid…
Mam. It is you. I know it. It's in your voice, in the hands you placed on my face, in the very look of you. Kellach felt something strange happening to her. Some sense of doom, of destruction to her spirit, fled from her body. It was as if her soul was escaping the fires of hell. What was left was something so sweet, so tender, tears dripped from her eyes, swam down her cheeks and fell to her garments like a waterfall crashing over rocks.
Aye, it's me, my darling. We must talk. I must tell you of my life and would hear of yours. There is so much to learn of each other. Alma kissed Kellach's temple, fearing to let go. She took hold of her hand and clenched it tight before kissing it many times and holding it to her cheek. Come, daughter, help this poor, stupid lady to her feet. We'll sneak inside and talk.
Still holding her mother's hand, as if fearful of loosening her grip on the bit of fate that brought them together, Kellach stood, stiffening against the unsteadiness in her legs. With her other hand, she helped her mother to rise and then grabbed her in a bone-crushing, nestling embrace, noticing how tiny and frail she was.
She smiled down at her. In my mind's eye, I always envisioned you as tall, and all-protecting.
You were but a wee lass yourself at the time. Of course I seemed bigger to you then, Alma said, with an answering smile. Please, come into this room where we can talk undisturbed. With a grace born of unsuspected confidence, she turned and moved into the room she had just left.
There was something about her mother that reminded Kellach of another. Too keyed up to dwell on such a thought, Kellach followed her mother into the room and closed the door behind her.
The room was a bit dim, but some light filtered through the places where the mud and wattle had shriveled. Five benches lined the walls and five chairs surrounded a large oaken table. Her mother sat in one of the chairs. Kellach could barely take her eyes from the spot.
Alma stretched her clasped hands in front of her on the table in an attempt to relax what she thought might be a tense encounter. First, she looked at those hands; then up at Kellach. Lord, but the lass was beautiful!
The sea-green eyes were large and magnificent in their shine. The red hair, somewhat undone from its long braid, curled around her face, giving her a soft look. Alma could see why Bruic was attracted to her. The girl's elegant face and body were the kind men appreciated and would willingly die for. She stopped. From what the others told her about her daughter, many had.
Alma unclasped her hands long enough to gesture to Kellach to sit and immediately squeezed her hands together again. She stared at her daughter as Kellach walked toward the table and sat down beside her. Once more, Alma released her hands from the death-grip hold. She turned in her seat and took both of her daughter's hands in hers.
I believe, if nothing more, I owe you an explanation of what happened to me so suddenly. You were only a child then and what your thoughts might have been, alone on that beach, surrounded by dead bodies, is more than I can fathom. Did you feel I had deserted you?
Kellach glanced away. Noooo, but I did look for you everywhere. I think I realized from the first that you were taken against your will, but it didn't lessened my grief at the loss. I found only a ripped and ragged piece of your gray skirt on the sand.
You remember the skirt? I have never worn anything gray since, Alma said, squeezing her daughter tightly. Let me continue. When they began dragging me away, I almost called out for you. But I was too fearful lest they do harm to you and Olwen as they did all the others. I stopped screaming and let them take me away so they wouldn't see you tiny girls.
Kellach interrupted. But one of them did see me. Bruic…
He told me so; after we arrived in the Northern Isles and had some time away from the ship. He told me how brave you were, how you stood up to him and how impressed he was over your behavior. He remained so through all the many years of our separation. He loved you on that beach, and it seems he still does, even today. He brought you here, trying to force us to meet as we have. Bruic is a king among men.
Aye, I readily agree to that.
Kellach's ready acceptance of all made tears of self-recrimination sting Alma's eyes but the child's happiness at seeing her made her joyful. She swiped at her tears with the corner of a sleeve of her tunic. They took me to a hut in the compound of their village, where Bruic himself was housed. From the beginning, he became my protector, young and vulnerable though he was, and a slave himself.
Kellach smiled. Go on. I must learn it all.
Although Halvor, Bruic's master, the man who took me from our shores, wanted to keep me, his wife wouldn't allow it. I was a slave for the first few years, bruised and beaten by anyone who had a mind to do so.
Och, I can't bear to hear you were treated so poorly. Kellach countered.
Alma debated telling her daughter more, then decided she needed to tell it all if she were to be able to salvage this new relationship. After several years, Halvor's wife died. He had small children and, since I belonged to no particular person, he was able to buy me from my position of slavery in the village. He brought me into his home and…
Kellach leaped from her chair and moved away from the table. If this is too painful, do not say. All is forgiven. I only want you back in my life.
What I must tell you now may change your opinion.
Kellach rushed back to the table and sat down again at her mother's side. Nothing you tell me will ever change my feelings. I have you back in my life. I want to share everything with you. She put her arms around her mother and rested her head against her mother's.
Alma smoothed the wayward hairs back from the girl's temples and tucked them behind her ears. She bowed her head as if afraid to meet her daughter's gaze. Kellach, I fell in love with the man called Halvor, desperately in love. Fortunately for me, he returned those feeling. Although we never married, I bore him four children, two sons and two daughters.
Kellach looked at her. Bruic told me I had kin, but he only mentioned one daughter. Now it seems you have another. Her words were an unspoken plea to confide the rest of the story.
The first was a daughter, the second and third sons, and then another daughter. They filled a void in my life, one left by the daughter I had born in Dublin and brought to the peninsula when her father died. Her hand reached to pat Kellach's face. I was never again mistreated, merely considered a villager of low birth. No one dared to interfere with Halvor. He was a fierce but loyal man. And I loved him. Do you understand that, Kellach? Alma bowed her head again, trying to control the remorse, guilt and fear swirling inside of her. Tears dripped onto her tunic
Kellach shifted uncomfortably in her seat and finally stood. She smoothed down her skirt, straightened her tunic and turned to her mother. The naked pain on her mother's face upset Kellach more than anything. A few months ago, I might not have understood so well. Until recently, I had no idea of what love might mean. I never loved any of the people I was coerced into marrying-not until Bruic came along did I discover the truth about love.
Time ticked by. Each of them was lost in thought. Kellach walked away for a moment. She thought about Bruic, a man who had brought violence and danger into her life, a man who had lied to her, a man who made her care anyway.
Alma sat back in her chair, drained. She fought back her anger over their long separation and the salty tears, which sprang to her eyes as if she were a young girl again. She wished she could recall all hurtful words and, in some ways, her life's journey as well, before the smile on Kellach's face came into focus and thrilled her.
Now, tell me about this Druid's curse you feel you're under. What makes you think you're cursed?
Kellach blinked in surprise at the question. She found herself reluctant to tell this gracious woman about her problems, especially since she didn't feel cursed any more. Somehow it had all gone away with the recognition of her mother.
Almost incapable of a response, she stuttered, I was told you…had left me because I was bad…cursed and of no consequence. Pricks of pain raced through her body.
Alma spoke in clipped sentences, repulsed by such an idea. And you believed that? Don't tell me Lunn told you that.
Nay, Lunn disbelieved it, but every time I was wed, the person I wed died shortly thereafter. What was I to believe? Who was I to believe, Lunn or my over-king? An expression crossed Kellach's face, too quickly to be identified and she uttered, Ah. Aye.
Bitter fury bubbled in Alma's throat. Her eyes grew round then narrowed almost to closure. Her chair scraped roughly along the floor as she rose and went to her daughter. It's not easy for me to control my emotions right now.
Nor me, mine.
Before Alma retort could pass her lips, the door to the room swung open and Bruic charged in. There you are. I've been looking for you since I saw the monk wandering about outside, shaking his head. I'm ready to go down to the ship and wanted your company.
Kellach turned toward him and he saw Alma, who had been hidden behind Kellach when he entered. Alma, I didn't see you there. I'm sorry. I hadn't figured you'd be together. Have I interrupted you?
Alma smiled up at him. Her smile was beautiful. Nay, I think we've covered far more than we planned to, in our short time in this room. I think we've gone over a lot of years and the things that bothered me before, no longer do.
Well, that's an improvement over former days. And you, Kell? Have you found your mother to be agreeable? Bruic tilted his head, waiting for an answer.
When the two women merely stood looking at each other, he moved closer to them. Always, I have hoped to see this reunion, but I refused to interfere in any way. Except now. Alma, will you go with us to find the twins and your youngest, or should I leave Kellach here to keep you company until I return?
Kellach spoke before the others did, Bruic, I will not stay here without you. And I want to go home, to the peninsula-but after we find the children. She turned to Alma. What of my other sister, the older one? You have not spoken of her to me.
Bruic noticed some sort of infusion of energy had transmitted itself to Kellach. She seemed refreshed and confident, despite her lack of sleep the night before. He smiled and his smile swelled into a grin, which he then directed toward Alma.
Noisy footsteps pounded down the hallway. A breathless Elva, followed by the taller, sturdier Dyrfinna, came whipping through the doorway. Seeing the three together, they stopped.
Elva cried out. Oh, have I missed something? You two have talked, haven't you? When no one responded, she tilted her head and said, Well, somebody say something.
Bruic chuckled. We're waiting for you to be quiet.
Bruic, do not tease me. This is too important. Mother, have…
Mother? An excited Kellach exclaimed. She is yer mother too? Then we're sisters, in truth. Why did ye not mention it to me?
Elva shrugged; but her grin was a bright light of pleasure. Kellach looked from one to another. Wonder traveled across her face.
I am so glad. So very, very happy, Kellach crooned, taking several steps toward Elva, who took step toward her.
They met in the middle of the room, stopped and then slung their arms around each other. They hugged and laughed with all the fervor of youth and supreme happiness.
Dyrfinna smiled broadly and nodded to Alma. I see everything has been taken care of as all of us suggested long ago. Well, she said, shaking her head in pleasure, now I must get back to my duties. That would truly be a grim circumstance in my eyes. With a laugh and a wave of her hand to all of them, she departed, obviously intent on her next set of chores.
Bruic drew the three women to the table. Sit, please. Sit quietly, until I outline the plans I have for finding the children. He watched and waited for them to seat themselves. When they finally did, they grasped each other's hand and held tightly to one another.
Alma interrupted his thoughts by saying, Bruic, there is…
Bruic cut her off mid-sentence. The smile disappeared from his face. What I have to say is far more important at the moment. It is imperative we find the youngsters quickly. Once we do, we'll retreat to the peninsula with them for safety's sake. I have everything set up with…
Bruic, this can't wait. I must tell you something. Now! Alma shouted at him.
It must wait. He pounded on the table. Nothing must get in my way of finding the children. They need us. What if Olaf does something to them? He may be willing to release them into our custody if I tell him I have found ports. It's worth trying.
When did you find ports? You never left An Dun Geata, Bruic. Kellach looked at him. Had he been conducting his Norse business behind her back?
Valdi found several in his recent journeys. And once the twins are safely in my hands, I'll look for more ports on the northern part of the peninsula.
Alma leaped to her feet. Her hands caught at her hips, she faced him. Bruic, stop! Stop and listen to me!
Chapter Twenty-Two
>The room in which the four had huddled seemed to darken. Alma sat back in her chair after hollering, pulled a candle over and lit it.
So seldom did Alma exert the force of her personality, Bruic was taken aback. He stood looking at her, lost for words to express his puzzlement at her shout, something she seldom did. When Kellach got up from the table, stood behind her mother and placed her hands on Alma's shoulder indicating support, he was totally baffled.
A frown creased Kellach's forehead. Bruic, let my mother speak, for heaven's sake. She obviously has something of importance to tell you. Why not listen to her and then tell us your plans?
What I need to speak about is far more important than anything you or your mother might offer at the moment, Bruic said, his anger beginning to rise. It concerns the safety of the twins and your little sister. Isn't that important enough for you, milady Kellach?
About to say more, Kellach's mind bubbled like a wind-swept wave, riddled with confusion. She glared at Bruic. His eyes were icy. His mouth, usually relaxed and full, was now tight, squeezed into a thin line of disapproval. Feeling her mother begin to rise, Kellach released her shoulders and stepped back.
Alma struggled to her feet for a second time and faced Bruic across the table. She pounded on it with an elegant fist. You will listen to me. And now! What I have to say also concerns the children. You seem to forget that my youngest daughter is in the same position as your sons, and, since I brought those two lads up, I am equally interested in their welfare. I care for all of them. While you were busy lollygagging around, finding ports for the beastly Olaf, I have been busy with the very orders you yourself gave me.
I have not forgotten. Spit out all your venom, woman and get it over with, Bruic griped. Say your worst. You have never been quite circumspect before or cared about hurting my feelings when you thought I was wrong about something. I have always loved you regardless.
Tension filled the air around the table. The two sisters held their breath. Alma put her hands on her hips and glared at Bruic for a minute more. In an apparent battle of wills, she pointed to the chair in front of him. Sit, Bruic.
Elva's and Kellach's lowered heads whipped up, their eyes about to pop out. When he sat, he put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. The two girls exchanged surprised glances.
Alma went to the door, opened it and looked out. Seemingly satisfied, she turned back into the room. She walked to the table and faced them all. In the lowest, softest voice she could muster, she whispered, The children are safe, even as I speak.
What? Bruic clamored, jumping to his feet. A muscle moved rhythmically in his jaw. This is no time to play games, Alma. I know you're distraught, too, but I…
Sit. I won't tell you again, she murmured, still keeping her voice low. And keep your voice down. There are many, many people in this monastery I do not trust.
Bruic sat quickly and put his hand out on the table to grasp Alma's. Do you tell me true, milady?
Have I ever done otherwise?
Nay. Bruic stood again, raking a hand through his dark hair and looking at them all, a surprised expression on his face.
Time seemed to stop. He drew himself up and began to pace the room, obviously trying to get himself under control. He needed some space to separate himself from them. Kellach had not understood how truly upset he was over his sons, but she saw the effort he made now to control himself. The atmosphere grew thick but lessened with Bruic's next pass by the table.
When he sat back down, everyone breathed a concerted sigh of relief. He groaned slightly. I'm fine now. Tell me what has occurred. Where are they? Who are they with? And can the person be trusted?
Draw close, Alma said, peeking over her shoulder. Let us all hold hands. It will seem as if we are praying over our most recent reunion. No one will approach us if we are seen to be in prayer,
Let's pull the chairs away from the table. That will make the circle smaller, Elva offered.
Good girl, Bruic added. He tipped his head toward a particularly dark corner of the room, away from the door.
Everyone stood and dragged their chairs over to the spot he indicated. They settled them into a tighter circle and took each other's hands. Each bent forward as if deep in prayer.
Alma spoke slowly and distinctly. Right after you left us here, Bruic, my servant Solveig put up a fuss about having to stay in a religious house. She claimed it was haunted and she wanted to leave this heathen place. She insisted, carrying on like a crazy person. Elva decided to go with her. Dyrfinna said they could return when they felt less surly and were willing to follow the Norse rules of this establishment. She smiled at Elva. They found their way to Dublin with the help of a local Gaelic fisherman who, I secretly believe, was a monk. Each girl took a servant's position in different households, Solveig in a Gaelic one and Elva with a Danish family. Although the fighting in parts of the city was fierce, Valdi stole into the area and found Elva. He immediately took her away to protect her. When he sailed back to you, she went with him.
I wasn't able to locate the children. I was not allowed to wander about, so I had no idea where they were being kept, Elva added. My mother told me last night that Solveig fared better.
The girl found work, Alma continued. One night she was crying because she had been unable to locate the children. The employer, who already fancied her, heard of the events and of the children's situation, he agreed to help.
And she trusted a Gael, a man she didn't really know? Bruic asked.
Aye. Being a kind man, and attracted to Solveig, they developed a further closeness. Within days, he found out where they were being hidden. He made arrangements to kidnap the children and pretend they were his.
I take it such a thing worked. Bruic shook his head. The whole affair was not to be trusted.
Once they obtained the children's release, Solveig and the Gael put the three in a cart, allowing them to speak only in the Gaelic. The five arrived here shortly thereafter, still pretending the children were the man's
Why didn't you tell me yesterday? Bruic questioned. Again he stood and moved about with restless energy.
When did I have the chance? The monks were in the building, as was Dyrfinna. I could not speak in front of them. Alma waved him back to his seat. I must keep my voice low. Remember, we must act like penitents.
I want to see my sons. Now, Bruic said sourly.
Hsst, Alma mumbled between clenched teeth. Here? They are not here, Bruic. Allow me to finish.
With a woebegone expression and great reluctance, he again sat in his chair. Alma, finish your story. Your slow recital is killing me. Where are my sons? Tell me that, at least.
I couldn't keep them here. If Dyrfinna knew she would have reported it. I don't know what the monks might have done. I did not want anyone to know about them, in case someone close to Olaf searched for them.
Where are they? I will ask again and again, until you tell me what I need to hear, Bruic said.
Solveig and the Gael plan to wed. I sent the children with Solveig to the Gael's home clan, somewhere in the central part of the island. She and her man will keep them safe from harm. Solveig is very attached to the twins as you already know.
Must we scour this whole island for them? Kellach asked. I have so little time left to me. I have been away from my clan for far too long. I must return.
Alma's tiny smile grew bigger. I knew where Bruic was going, from the very first. Of course, I knew of the clan, of Lunn and all.
Turning to Kellach and smiling, Bruic intervened. Throughout the years, your mother constantly told me stories of the fort near the sea, where she had lived before the Norse took her. She kept the legends of Gael, and thoughts of you, alive in me. Turning back to Alma, he asked in a husky voice, And are you sure the children are safe?
Aye. Our plans worked. They are free of the Norse. They'll reach An Dun Geata by the winter solstice.
Kellach looked at him. The love she felt for him shone from her eyes, but something cloudy crept in. I must ask you this, Bruic. Finding ports. Is that what you really came to Dun Geata for?
Nay, it was what I told Olaf, in order to protect the children, your mother and all my men. He grinned. And to get where I wanted to be without incident. Hereafter, I will protect you, and them, till the end of my days. He stood and drew her close. And now, lass, here in front of your mother and your sister, I again ask you to marry with me. You'll want for nothing with myself as your husband.
Kellach flung her arms around his neck. She whispered in a hoarse voice, Aye. I could never marry with another.
Even if you had to give up the clan?
She hesitated, but only briefly. Once I know the clan is safe from Morfinn and his legions…Now that Olwen has Fergus the help and Lunn there, she could rule. She is the daughter of a king. She looked up at Bruic and grinned back at him. Aye. I will follow you wherever our life might take us.
Bruic lifted her in his arms and swung her around. My love for you overflows my heart. He put her down and cradled her beneath his arm. But now we have to prepare to leave this place. All of us.
Dyrfinna will be suspicious if Elva and I leave with you. Olaf ordered her to keep me guarded. He wants me for his own, and as much as Dyrfinna wants me away from him, she would report it to him directly. The consequences to her will be harsh if she does not. Perhaps, later, with Olaf's approval, we'll be allowed to join you at Dun Geata.
I'm not leaving you here, after having just found you, Kellach said, with great dignity. I will not leave you to another Norseman. You and Elva must come back to the clan…to Lunn…to Olwen, who also misses you dreadfully.
Elva stood and rocked back and forth on her feet. Her dark eyes glittered with news. And I will not stay here or anywhere without Valdi. We will also marry-as he proclaimed when we were saved from the raging sea.
Dyrfinna appeared at the door. Have you solved your problems, girl? she asked Kellach.
Aye, lady. It's almost as if I were never cursed in the first place. My mother seems to have removed the curse with a single touch. I have always known that only she could do that. I'm merely surprised at the quickness in which it left me. I feel so free. As if it had never been there.
I did nothing, Alma said, but identify myself. And it's doubly unusual. I felt all my bitterness leave me when I first looked upon my daughter's face and realized our connection.
I think, perhaps, that you had no real curse on you, Kellach. If you had, a priest would have been able to remove it, Dyrfinna said with great patience.
Bruic came to stand by the Norsewoman. Dyrfinna, I also agree with you. I have believed from the very first someone connected to the clan perpetrated the curse. And I have an inkling who that person was.
Alma cocked her head to one side. I think I agree with your assessment, lady. I think the Druid's curse was man-made. By someone I know, I fear. I believe it was someone whom I refused to marry years ago.
Elva and Kellach stared at their mother and moved closer to one another.
Bruic nodded slightly and went on, But now, ladies, I must check on the condition of my ship. I will be taking Kellach home to her clan when the tide turns more agreeable. And I have many more ports to find for Olaf.
I'm sorry you're leaving so quickly, Badger. As always, I have enjoyed your company, no matter how little I had of it on this trip. Dyrfinna looked at the four of them. Well, I suppose you wish to make your farewells.
Kellach was about to speak, but Bruic did before she could. I intend to leave Kellach here with her mother and sister for a short while. I will return for her tomorrow, if that is all right with you.
That would be fine. Perhaps you'll manage to take a small repast with us this evening, before your departure. Dyrfinna headed for the door, with Bruic right behind her. I'll leave you to make your peace with one another, she caroled, moving through the open doorway. She turned, nearly bumping into Bruic, and nodded. I will see you all later.
Once she had left and strolled down the hallway, Bruic closed the door quietly. Come here, all of you.
The three women gathered around him. This is what I want you to do. Pack whatever clothing you will need for a journey on the seas.
Most of my things are still on board, Elva said. But, no doubt, they're wet and in horrid condition.
Don't worry. You'll have new when we return to Dun Geata, Kellach said, turning to Bruic. You don't intend to leave them here, do you?
Nay. They come with us. Tonight. Valdi and I and the others will make arrangements. The men will listen to me just as they always have. I will leave you here, Kell, under the pretext of visiting with your mother a bit longer. You'll be able to help them sneak out. I will return for the dinner meal and leave. Dyrfinna will be told that I will come for Kellach tomorrow. If we do not get a chance to speak alone this evening, bring only what you need to the wall by the small cemetery after everyone has gone to sleep.
And you will be there? Alma asked.
This is what I plan and I'm sure it will work. Valdi and some of the men will come with me to the wall and wait. They will bring the ropes and hooks we'll need to get over the wall. I will climb back in. If you stand on my shoulders, you'll each be able to reach the ropes. You'll have to climb up and down them or you'll get hurt. It's a long drop to the ground. Without realizing it, Bruic was playing with Kellach's hair as he spoke, idly twisting the loose strands around his finger.
Kellach looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear. Och, Bruic, I do not want anything to happen to my mother or sister.
Nothing will. You must trust me, Kellach. For I do you no harm, nor will I do harm to what you love. He bent down and kissed her mouth, which opened for him. His tongue went inside instantly and out again.
Kellach felt the strength of the kiss in her toes. Her arms crept around his neck. She pressed against him harder. He broke the kiss and grinned down at her. I'll be back for you, love. Never fear…
He turned and went out the door, leaving it wide open. For some reason, Kellach's eyes filled with tears. Her vision blurred but she felt the strength of her mother's arms around her. Come, love. We'll go to my tiny room and make ready.
~*~
Bruic returned to the monastery in time for the evening meal. His dark blue eyes were interested in everything around him and alive with light. He watched but gave none of his feelings away, not even when he saw the many Norsewomen who now inhabited the monastery and used the monks as servants. After serving the Norsewomen and their guests dinner, the monks were allowed to go to their evening services in the church, leaving Bruic alone with all the women.
Dyrfinna walked them back to the small room where they had spent most of their day and said, I'll leave you three ladies to talk amongst yourselves for a bit. I know you have a lot to discuss. She was anxious to be gone from them. It was written all over her. I'll walk the Badger to the wall and let him out. He'll pick you up tomorrow, Kellach, as he promised, although I do wish you'd stay here for a longer visit.
Alma started forward. Bruic gave her a look that held her in her place. Kellach, you don't have to rise early. The tide is not right tonight, but it will be perfect by late afternoon. I will return for you then.
Kellach knew her face must be white, because Bruic's expression changed. Aye, she mumbled.
She had never seen Bruic's mouth curl like that and she was afraid. She looked to her mother. Alma's face was blank. No expression of discomfort marred it at all. Kellach tried to compose her features to mimic her mother's.
With a spring in his step, Bruic, whose face was also bland, ushered Dyrfinna before him. Come, lady. We'll go to the main gate together. He smiled down at her then turned back to the others. I will see you ladies on the morrow, he said pointedly and winked.
As soon as he went out the door, an unnatural pall fell over the three women who had been through so much this day. They had not had a chance to discuss any appropriate actions, so they were on their own. They would have to gather their clothing and manage to meet Bruic at the cemetery. If he weren't there on time, how would they get over the wall? Their tones were muffled to a low murmuring as they made some plans, but apprehension cast a large shadow over them.
Kellach spoke first, but her voice was low and scratchy. He'll get help from the rest of the Norsemen. He won't leave the area. I know he won't.
Alma sighed. I know he won't, too. He'll figure something out.
Why did he wink at us? Elva asked, frowning.
Wait! Kellach said loudly. Quickly aware of how her voice echoed in the near empty room, she lowered it. She was tired but her mind worked harder. He said he'd see us on the morrow, and then he winked. I think he wants us to go to the cemetery wall, right after midnight as he had first planned.
You're right, Elva said with a breathless little moan. That's what he meant.
Alma contributed her say-so as well. No one will be up then. They go to their rest almost as soon as it gets dark. We will go to the wall and take our chances if we are discovered. The Norsewomen report everything I do to Olaf. And Dyrfinna herself would do anything to keep me here-out of his clutches. She doesn't want me to interfere with her position as Olaf's woman.
There is definitely a danger attached to our going home. Kellach yawned. Exhaustion made her feel faint, but she knew she must stay awake until midnight hour struck.
Come, girls. We should go to our quarters to sleep. Alma spoke in a loud voice and nodded once, toward the door. Then she whispered, That should make them feel more comfortable.
Aye, Mam, Kellach agreed, yawning loudly a second time. I am tired.
I am, too, Elva said, her yawn louder than Kellach's.
The three went to the door. Dyrfinna stood just outside. Ladies, I came to wish you good night. Most of us will retire now. If you wish to remain in the room, I've brought you some candles to use.
Alma smiled at the woman. No, that won't be necessary. We three are extremely tired. Our emotions ran away with us. We'll go along to our rooms with you and sleep the night away.
Dyrfinna grinned broadly as if satisfied with her decision to appear at the door. She would walk them to their rooms and see that they were comfortable. She certainly wouldn't want her guests to feel she was lacking in compassion and grace. She smiled to herself and noticed their exhaustion had slowed their steps…
Chapter Twenty-Three
>It was close to midnight. The monastery was wrapped in a veil of spectral darkness, a discomforting gray gloom. Varied snorting snores emanated from most of the cloth-draped cubicles relegated to the lower order of Norsewomen, servants and guests.
Hearts pounding, Kellach, Elva, and Alma removed their boots and traipsed past room after room housing those sleeping ladies, hoping only to get by undetected. If Dyrfinna suspected their planned escape, she would have posted guards at their room. Her desire to keep Olaf all to herself might necessitate her seeing to Alma's demise.
The three tiptoed toward the nearest exit in their bare feet, careful not to make a sound. Barely breathing, they each carried boots and a bundled sack of clothing in their arms. They didn't speak, merely followed each other in a single line, heads bowed, eyes focused on the floor.
A frightened Kellach took the lead. She reached the door to a long hallway first. She stopped, placed her bundle on the floor and waited for her companions. Each placed her bundle on the floor next to the one already there. They stood together. Only the warmth of their bodies lent them any comfort.
Kellach unlatched the door and gently set the hook so it hung against the wood frame. Hesitant, she pushed the door till it was slightly ajar and held it for Alma and Elva.
With infinite care, she passed all the bundles to the others through the narrow opening. She took a deep breath. Holding the wooden door open only slightly, she pressed against the frame and sidled through the thin gap between the door and its frame. Fearful of making a noise, she left it open. Again, she took the lead. Walking abreast, they crept down one short hallway, which led to another and another. Finally, they made it beyond the living quarters of the Norsewomen. Before opening the big door to the main part of the monastery, they stopped. Each drew in a great breath.
The hardest part of their journey was yet to come. They needed to pass the housing quarters of the monks and the few male guards who slept in another section of the monastery, nearer the church and the massive double doors to the outdoors areas. It would be their biggest challenge, Kellach thought.
Elva whispered into Kellach's ear, while pointing down the hallway. How are we to get through here?
Kellach shrugged in response. We'll have to go singly and hug the wall. If we have to leave the bundles, we will. She spoke in hushed tones. Who first?
Elva nodded and Kellach unlatched this door as she had done the other and let the hook dangle by the frame. She lifted the door slightly, so it wouldn't scrape against the floor. With her hand on the loose part of the latch and her shoulder against the wood, she felt it give to her weight and open.
Elva put her arms around the bundle she carried, placed her back to the frame and twisted through the narrow opening. On the other side, she inched her way sideways, stepping out with one foot at a time.
Kellach could barely see her in the darkness of the hall, but she heard some infinitesimal movements. After holding her breath for a second, she saw a gap in the wall through which a beam of moonlight spilled. A shadow fell over it. Elva had made it to the end of the hallway. She waved only once.
Alma, you go. Do the same thing Elva did. And wave when you get to the spot at the end, Kellach said into Alma's ear, her lips barely moving.
Alma slid past Kellach and followed her younger daughter's example. She wriggled through the door, pressed her delicate frame to the wall and took one tiny step after another until she too was at the end of the corridor. The area was silent. Her wave indicated her success as she turned the corner to the last corridor leading to the church.
A spectral voice boomed, Who's out there?
Kellach leaped behind the door, her pulse racing. Unseen terrors surfaced. She froze in place, incapacitated. Her bundle nearly fell to the floor. Movement returned and she clutched it to her bosom. There wasn't a sound in the corridor, except the heavy footfall of a man.
Both Elva and Alma had traveled past the monks' rooms without mishap, but she was stuck where she was. Her breathing was shallow, a mere pant. Each inhalation crashed overly loud in her ears like thunder. She swallowed, incapable of any response or thought.
Alroy, is that ye? the same voice inquired, considerably lower than before. Is it trouble ye're having still? Why won't ye be answering me, lad?
Kellach heard the scuff of feet encased in leather slippers. The man was coming toward her with slow, steady, unrelenting steps, like in her nightmares. Her mind saw him, an animal crouching, ready to spring, to devour. Her muscles unknotted. Her mouth was dry and sour. Am I having one of my horrid dreams?
>If the man discovered her walking about with a bundle, he might sense her intentions and give word to Dyrfinna. She felt faint and lowered the bundle to the floor. Should she do something? Pretend she was walking in her sleep, perhaps.
Alroy, if ye won't be answering, I'll figure ye've gone off where ye shouldn't. Ta' them Norse. I'll come after ye, I will. The voice complained with grinding force.
Suddenly, a younger, lighter male voice called out, What are ye talkin' about, Father? I'm here in me room, where I should be. Ye woke me out of a simple sleep, ye did.
'Tis sorry I am, lad. Go back to yer sleep now. The voice was muffled. The priest must have turned in the other direction, back toward his original location. And be dreaming good thoughts, for the morrow.
Kellach heard the scuff of footsteps returning from whence they came. Her inaudible sigh of relief roared in her ears. She stood, pasted to the wall for moments on end, until no more sounds, except loud snoring, resonated from inside the corridor.
Her fears almost overwhelmed her. She craved to be reunited with the others. A current of anxiety fueled her arms and legs, but she willed it away and lurched from the wall. She retrieved the bundle by her side and clasped it to her chest with one hand. With the other, she slid her fingers along the wall and moved closer to the doorway in front of her.
A nervous minute passed before she realized the priest had closed the door. She was afraid to open it, fearing it would squeak or do something to alert him yet again.
Drawing in a deep breath, she struggled with the wooden frame, managed to open the door without noise and curled her body through the opening. Staring straight ahead, she quickly traversed the corridor and turned the corner. Her mother and sister, although trembling, stood waiting for her. She ran the last few steps to Alma, who embraced her. Kellach could feel the wet spots on her mother's face.
Come, she whispered, her nerves threading her voice with a hoarse quality. It's long past midnight. They'll all be waiting for us. We must get out of this building quickly.
How will we get the main door open? It's so thick and heavy, we'll not be able to move it, Elva wondered aloud.
Aye, we will. I feel the strength of giants in my very arms, Kellach responded, hoping to allay her sister's fright.
They went down the hall until they faced the massive double doors that would lead them to freedom. A heavy iron rod rested on top of two matched iron spikes set into the doorframe. They would have to lift the rod before they could open either door. They put their sacks down next to the entranceway and studied the complication before them.
We'll try this but we'll have only one real chance to manage it, Kellach said. Once we are outside, I know Bruic will take care of the rest.
We need to test the weight of it with our shoulders, Alma offered, nodding her head in agreement.
Wait, wait. Where will we put the rod once we get it off? Elva asked in a hissing whisper.
Kellach looked at both doors. She examined each with her hands and fingers. She pointed to the one on the right. This one will open easier. What we must do is lift only one side of the rod over the spike and placed it on the floor as quietly as we can.
I see what you mean. Alva continued, We'll have to hang on to it tightly until we can get this end down without it crashing to the floor.
Easier to talk about than to do, Elva added.
Kellach slid beneath the rod. I have an idea. Since I'm the tallest, I will stand at the right side to lift the rod higher, over the spikes. Elva, you stand in the middle. Mother, you take the end. It will be your job to keep the piece steady until we are able to place it on the ground.
They stood in a row according to size, Alma at the left end, Elva in the middle and Kellach at the right. Each lowered their bodies to fit the rod under their shoulders.
When I say 'fine' let's try it once to test the weight of the iron, Kellach said, sliding under and putting her hands around the long rod.
The other two did the same. Each let the rod rest on her shoulder and fastened her hands around the bulk of it.
Fine, came the whisper.
They rose as one and felt the rod move ever so slightly. With them holding it as tightly as they could, they could barely contain the minute noise it made rolling back into place. They looked around. No movement came from any of the corridors leading away from the massive doors. Still they stayed quietly waiting, their bodies trembling.
Time is passing. I wonder if Bruic will wait. A frown indicated Elva's worried expression.
He'll not leave us here. With the Norse? Nae. He would never do that, Alma replied. Besides, he fancies your sister.
I have an idea, Kellach said, ignoring the remark. It was not the time for levity. Let's see how much the right-hand door will open before the rod stops it. She ducked underneath the rod and grasped the door handle. With a twist and pull, she brought the door to the rod. Because the rod was fixed onto the frame of the doorway, the door itself slid in a bit.
Kellach, are you there? Bruic's voice floated in from the outside.
The three women started in relief at the sound of his voice so close. Kellach's vision blurred with warm tears.
Alma recovered first. She poked Kellach, who answered quietly, Aye, the three of us are here.
What's the trouble then? Bruic asked softly.
There's a huge length of iron stopping us from opening the door any further. We're trying to figure out how to move it off the spikes it's sitting on, Kellach whispered, her face by the crack of the opening.
Kell, step back. Let me see if I can get my arm inside. If I can, I'll help you lift it but you'll have to put it down without noise.
Och, Bruic, if you can lift it over our heads, we can maneuver it to the ground. We're not tall enough to get the proper leverage. We only need to lift the right side of it.
Why only the right? he asked.
There's no need to take the entire rod down. We can bend the right door in but not enough to get our bodies through, Kellach told him in a low voice.
Let me know when you're situated under the rod, he said, sliding his thick, sinewy arm through the narrow opening.
Together the three women positioned themselves beneath the iron bar.
Bruic, we're going to lift now. Do you have a good grasp?
Yea, start your lift and I will bring it up further over the spike. I can just see the one on the right, he said, grasping the rod in one hand.
Lift, Kellach hissed at them all. Lift, ladies.
With no grunting to indicate their effort, they boosted the rod up and up, nearer to the top of the spike. In the light from outside, Kellach could see the large, hard muscles of Bruic's arm working to push the rod higher. She saw the knuckles in his hands strain, heard his slow release of breath and saw the rod slide over the spike holding it. It landed on her shoulder first and almost knocked her to her knees.
Elva took the next brunt of its weight and Alma the third. Together the three slowly brought the rod down. Kellach slid to her knees to muffle the edge of the rod in her tunic and dress. Elva helped to roll it onto the floor.
Come. It's open enough for us to twist through. Pass the sacks to Bruic, Alma said, shoving one through the partially opened door. She grabbed another and squeezed it through. My heavens, Elva, what do you have in yours? It's full to the brim.
Elva answered quickly. I have all my garments in the one sack.
Next, Kellach's bundle went through the opening, followed by Alma. Elva moved right after her mother and the taller Kellach followed. As soon as she got outside, Bruic clasped her in his arms. His face, stiff with worry, cracked into a grin that melted her bones and his teeth gleamed in the thin shaft of moonlight. He bent to give her a quick kiss on the forehead.
We have no time to dawdle. The others are waiting for us at the cemetery wall. We are far later than we expected and must move quickly. I'll carry the sacks. You mimic my movements. I will try to stay in the shadows.
The women darted after Bruic, from one side of a building to another, staying in shadows and leaping from one foot to another as stones and gravel cut their feet. They reached the wall in record time. In the moonlight, they caught a glimpse of Valdi and another straddling the top of the wall.
One of you men, catch these sacks. Bruic tossed them over the wall and obviously someone caught them. There was no sound of them falling to the ground.
Bruic hunkered down and raised his arms over his head. Elva, stand on my shoulders and hold onto my hands, then the wall, until you feel Valdi's hands around your wrists. He'll pull you up but you'll have to slide down the rope on the other side.
Elva's youthful steps were graceful as she stepped onto Bruic's shoulders. He held her in place with his arms. Now, shimmy your hands up the wall to Valdi.
Elva did as she was told. Valdi reached down, grasped the girl by her wrists and hoisted her up onto the wall. See the rope? You must go down it to where my men can catch you. Hurry, he said, giving her a kiss on her cheek. When she was safely down on the ground on the other side of the fence, Valdi called softly, Next.
Again Bruic hunkered down and raised his arms. Alma leaped onto his back and groped her way to his shoulders. The world around them was as silent as their activity was frantic. A calm look passed between Kellach and Bruic, as Valdi pulled Alma up to the top and she started down the rope.
Kellach, Valdi called softly. Your turn.
But how is Bruic going to get up? she asked.
Bruic reached down and took her hand. Come, I'll swing you up on my shoulders. He took one of her hands, cradled her for a minute while looking down at her face and hoisted her to his shoulders. She stood.
Lord, but you're tall, Valdi said, grinning. It's easy to get a hold of you.
Before she knew it, she was on the top of the wall, and halfway down the rope before she looked back. Bruic.
Get on the ground and stay there. Valdi yanked the rope out of her hands and tossed it over the wall. Within seconds, Bruic was on the top and shimmied down on the other side.
Valdi, loosen the hooks, he said. Put them on this side. Come down a ways, loosen them altogether and I'll catch you, Bruic called up.
Valdi did as he was told and Bruic caught the man's body in his arms and swung him immediately to one side onto his feet. The iron claw rope hit the ground. The Norsemen waiting picked it up. They all stood and looked at each other, reveling their escape.
Enough, Bruic said, gathering up the remains of their debris. This is only half the journey. To get to the ship in safety, we'll have to pass some the Norse guards left here to protect the women. They let me pass once but would be suspicious at this hour. And we need to do it before the dawn breaks. I want to be well out to sea before then.
Kellach turned to the Norsemen who had come on this difficult raid for them. Thank you all so much. Nothing could have pleased me more than to see all of you again so soon.
The men smiled and bowed their heads as if embarrassed. Bruic grabbed Kellach's arm and hurried her down the narrow path driven into the hillside. Valdi took Elva's hand and the two rushed down after Bruic.
Ulf came forward. The man had rough edges but he spoke with a reverence unlike him. It would be my honor, lady, if you would rely on my help till we reach the ship.
Aye, Ulf. There is no help I would like better. It's a great blessing bestowed upon me. Alma slipped her hand in his and they followed the others.
The rest of the men fanned out until they surrounded the couples. All rushed through a darkness of clouds and fog, with only patches of moonlight poking through the fog.
They made it to the ship without incident. The sea air was sweet and clear. The rest of the crew, who had stayed on board to guard, had seen to it the ship was all packed and ready, out in the water of the harbor. The men picked the women up and waded through the water with them. They handed them off to men on the ship and climbed up over the overlapping oak planking.
Once they were all safely on board, the rowers powered the ship farther out into the harbor. When they were out far enough no one could possibly catch them, they raised the sail in a cooling sea breeze and headed for An Dun Geata.
Kellach wondered what danger they might have to face on returning home to the fort.
Chapter Twenty-Four
>The trip back to An Dun Geata was far more uneventful than the trip away. Other than one soft day of rain, the sea remained relatively calm. A warm, steady breeze helped the ship to skim the waters with cat-like agility. If moonlight lit the way, the ship continued west along the southern coast of the island even during the night.
As they rounded the southwestern tip to head in a northerly direction, a hefty wind churned the waters, making for rough sailing. For two days running, they camped in a desolate area near the shore until the sea tamed itself and the waves diminished. During those two days, the Norsemen rested. They also took that opportunity to sharpen their weapons in preparation for a probable battle necessary in the retaking of the fort.
The two couples had little chance to converse privately, much less be together by themselves, even on land. The safety of the group depended on their staying together in a large number. Churlishness flared and minor clashes ensued between Kellach and Bruic. Alma did her best to separate the warring contenders by acting the role of peacemaker.
Tempers were short. Spicy sea air soon displaced the anger, once the sail was raised again and the ship was on her path to home. The ship hugged the western coast and finally swung around the coastline into some of the quieter waters surrounding the peninsula. The men spotted An Dun Geata fortress perched high on an escarpment.
Before they could raise a seafarer's cheer for home, Valdi held up his hand. He leaned over to Bruic and said in a low voice, If the amount of rising dust is any indication, there's a lot of activity up there for an ordinary day. What do you think?
Morfinn and his men are planning something. It wouldn't be like him to give the area back to Kellach without a fuss. I'd bet on it.
Do they expect us to go into the fort as unsuspecting fools with no preparation for combat? Valdi laughed heartily as though the very thought were a great joke. Now, why would they think that? What makes them think they would win in an out and out fight?
Kellach, overhearing their conversation, moved closer. I think I know. Her demeanor was serious, and she faced Bruic squarely.
He smiled down at her. How would you know what secret plans Morfinn might have?
Bruic, it's all my fault. In my anger, when you refused to tell me where my mother was, I agreed to marry Ronan if my mother was found to remove the Druid's curse. I found her. The curse has been removed.
Bruic put his hand under her chin and drew it up a bit. You know what you'd be giving up if you did that.
She shook her head in agreement. Aye. My clan, and myself, I'm thinking.
And you'd be right. He let go of her chin. That is not what you want, Kellach. Not for your clan nor for yourself.
Nae. We found my mother, not them. I've learned the curse was never there at all and still wonder how it started. I want to live in peace, without fear for my people.
Our people…
Marrying Ronan is the furthest thing from my mind.
Bruic drew her close and cradled her beneath his arm. Then you won't have to marry with anyone. Except me, of course. He grinned down at her.
I cannot sacrifice your life or the lives of your men. My honor would force me to do anything to prevent that.
Bruic laughed and turned to everyone in the ship. He shouted out to them with great glee. Men, I believe those who pretended to guard Dun Geata in our absence now seek to take it over. No doubt, they intend to fight us off when we land. I need your opinions as to how we are to accept this…
Ulf shouted. We fight. He looked at Kellach. It's not your Gaels that would fight us, milady. It's them other bas…that king of yours and his son. Never saw two more shifty men in my life. I say we fight, he reiterated in a loud voice.
With his hand fisted, he raised his left arm to the sky and turned toward the rest of the men. This time, his good humor rang out across the bay. I say we fight them royals, right, men?
A chorus of Yea, yea! answered him.
We haven't had a good fight in a while, said another.
A fourth chimed in. It's time. My sword arm is eager.
We live to fight, said the closest oarsman, who raised his fisted hand high.
Several of the other oarsmen raised their closed hands even higher. We do, too
We fight! came the chorus.
Wray, an older man whose straggly beard was braided at the bottom, said, I have an idea. How many of you can swim well and climb up cliffs?
Climb? Bruic asked, puzzled. What is it you have in mind?
Two of the seamen stood. Their faces bore wicked smiles.
I can, said the first.
And I, said the other. I'm beginning to get a glimmer. What's your idea?
Wray stroked his beard before answering, and when he did, it was with a question for Bruic. Badger, how close can we get to the ridges before we land in that beach cove and everyone sees us?
Bruic scanned the horizon. Not all the way to shore. I see what you're getting at, I think. He examined the two men standing. A man would have to swim through some treacherous water. A really strong swimmer could make it. Again he scrutinized the two men. Yea, they could do it.
Wray smiled slyly. Now, Badger, this is my thinking. If we jettison some men to climb those rocky ridges, they can warn Fergus and that Lunn man that we're on our way.
I'm sure Fergus has posted men somewhere secret to watch for us. Bruic hesitated, deep in thought. But if you got to him, he could alert trusted men on the fort grounds without raising anyone's suspicions.
Bruic grabbed Valdi's arm. How close can we get to the ridges?
With some dexterous rowing, we can get in pretty close. We'll just have to watch for underwater rocks, Valdi answered while directing a man to climb the forward stem post. He turned back. Wray, what do you say? Do we take down the sail and give it a try?
I'm a climber myself. I'll go with two men. We'll make it, I'm sure. We'll warn the Norsemen and the Gaels Fergus knows as loyal men.
Ulf was in the process of lowering the sail. Some of you help me. The sooner we get it down and stowed, the better. You, oarsmen, row hard. He started calling a cadence. The rowing crew dug into the water with their oars, and the ship quickly moved closer to the rocky ridges.
Seabirds, gannets, and petrels skirted the cliffs, soaring and diving in rhythm to Ulf's calls. Seals lay upon some of the larger rocks. When the ship got too close, they dove into the water, disappearing for a time.
Wray and two of the younger men undressed to their leggings. Kellach, Elva and Alma averted their eyes as the almost naked men straddled the sides of the ship. Wray lifted his arm. Let her float in, Just watch for them rocks.
In a flash, the three were over the sides and swimming with wild, powerful strokes, their daggers clamped between their teeth. The women prayed the men would reach land safely and be able to climb the rocks to warn those at An Dun Geata. At landfall, the men on shore lifted their arms to indicate they made it through the water to the cliffs. Everyone on board heaved a sigh of relief.
Bruic called to Valdi. Lay off shore until morning. I doubt there will be an element of surprise in it unless Wray and the men get to Fergus. We'll go in just before the light of day.
~*~
From under a shady tent in the fort's yard, Morfinn watched his guardsmen instruct their clan's small army. He smiled and nodded when a specific maneuver was performed with speed and accuracy. At one point, he even clapped his hands.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a man running toward him, and he angled his body so it was somewhat behind Ronan's. I think the Badger and crew are about to make their presence known. Someone's coming to warn us.
It's one of your own guards. Annoyed at waiting for his turn to work the men in maneuvers, a bored Ronan swiveled around in his seat and then looked at his stepfather. Why are you hiding behind me?
I'm doing no such thing. And it's impertinent of ye to mention it.
The man came to a halt and slipped to one knee. Morfinn, ye were right to keep guards on the ridges.
With the man's words, Morfinn came alert, as did Ronan. Have ye spotted them? Morfinn asked.
Aye. Me and the men picked up sight of their sail when they rounded the headlands into the long stretch of water before the coves.
I'm surprised. They're earlier than I would have guessed, Ronan said. Olaf must not have hidden the children as well as he thought he did.
Morfinn dismissed the man who had been watching the sea for signs of the Norse. I was rather hoping the Badger would not return. I don't look forward to the battle that must come.
With a whistle, he summoned his guardsmen from their training chores. When they gathered around him and the trainees stood idle, Morfinn deigned to speak. We have gotten word of a ship being sighted. One of me men thinks it's the Badger. Since we won't be knowing exactly in which cove he'll land, we must cover several.
Ronan interrupted. Don't move the men around so we're not protected here at the fort.
The Badger will never make it to the fort. But ye're right. Divide yer men into groups of thirty or more. Place them at the three most important landing coves. Be keeping them on the road, so we can contain the Norseman on whatever beach he chooses. Have yer men prepared for full battle.
Stepfather, we'll need a contingent of men here, in case some of the Dun Geata Gaels rebel. Particularly if the Badger has Kellach with him, as you've assumed from the start, Ronan mocked.
No true Gael wants a Norseman for master.
Remember, there are Norsemen on this property as well.
They'll do nothing. And ye remember, as I've told ye before, there is no way Kellach could have successfully hidden from all your extravagant searching. The Badger must have returned somehow, in the dark of night, and whisked her away. Not even the big hound of Olwen's seems to know where she is, Morfinn said, annoyed at Ronan's smirking attitude. Or else, yer lady love fled to avoid her marriage ta ye.
Ronan smiled, but the smile was grim. I still plan on wedding her as soon as we get rid of the Badger. That was your promise-and hers.
Morfinn patted his knee. Do not worry, son. We shall kill the Badger, and ye shall have Kellach for wife. We'll be able to join our lands and we'll be the richest men in all of Gael.
~*~
All through the night, the men from Bruic's ship crept over the land to learn what was happening on shore. They saw Morfinn's men move into positions of power and set up camp at two of three coves and left before they were detected. They tried to count each contingent of men and horse to report back to the Badger.
Bruic was famous as a clever strategist, so Valdi, Ulf and he retreated into a huddle to discuss a scenario for battle. Once their plans were formed, Ulf took twenty of the men and doubled back behind the restless Gaels in the farthest cove, the third and most eastern. Bruic and Valdi stayed on board with the remaining twenty-seven men and the three women in the largest cove, second in the row of navigable harbors.
The decision was made. Ulf, with the fiercest fighters, would wait at the third cove with ten of his men, looking like they were half-dead survivors, lying on the sand to recover. If they could draw the Gaelic guardsmen onto the beach, they would attack Morfinn's Gaels at the third cove. The other ten Norsemen, having hidden on the other side of the dirt road, would then surround the Gaels on the beach.
The strongest men left on the ship were to take up oars on one side and the weaker one, along with the women, would row on the other side away from the shore. With uneven rowing, Bruic hoped the Gaels would think some misfortune had damaged the ship. Those on board could delay landing, giving Ulf time to subdue some of the Gaels.
Bruic had no knowledge of how many men Morfinn still had at the fort. It was the element, which presented the most danger. He prayed the three swimmers sent to Fergus made it into the fort grounds to warn him. A lot depended on the number of loyal Gaels left in the fort, and the condition of the smallest cove closest to Dun Geata.
~*~
When dawn broke, ten Norsemen secreted themselves half on the sand and half in the water of the third beach, their shields and swords under their bodies. They were wet and seemingly exhausted for none of them moved. They barely seemed to be breathing.
Morfinn's Gaels couldn't believe their eyes. Prisoners, easily captured and brought to Morfinn, would win them awards for bravery. They knew they had to be bloodied to prove a fierce battle, but they knew they could fake it. In a mad scramble, most leaped from their horses, left the animals standing on the road and ran onto the beach, hoping to be the first to get to a prisoner.
Laughing and tumbling over each other, ten of Morfinn's Gaels ran the length of the beach to the water. As soon as one touched a Norseman, a tremendous, screeching cry rose from the Norseman's lips. The man would roll over and stick his sword through the Gael's belly. The Norseman would jump to his feet and go after the next nearest Gael, slashing and tearing with his double-edge sword.
Ulf's scream of attack, from across the road, could be heard for miles as he and his other men raced to the beach to engage more Gaels. The screams of dying men carried over the water to all parts of the peninsula as one after the other of Morfinn's men fell to the blades of the Norsemen. The clash of swords also echoed over the water.
Bruic and Valdi heard the noises in the next cove and began rowing harder to reach shore. Men switched sides of the ship so they could head it onto the sand properly. They noticed a few of the Gaels stationed in at the second cove had ridden off to see what was happening in the third cove, leaving fewer of them to Bruic's sword.
Morfinn and Ronan heard it up at the fort. So did Fergus and Lunn. They all understood that the battle had been joined. Morfinn and Ronan rounded up the rest of their men and took off down the road to aid the men already in the fray, leaving Lunn and Fergus to round up the Gaels loyal to Kellach and, in turn, Bruic.
~*~
The Norse ship landed in the second cove. Bruic, Valdi and the rest of the sailors on board leaped over the sides of the ship, their swords drawn and their spirits willing. Gaels on horseback tried to gallop down the beach to attack, but their horses foundered in the sand. Several horsemen were jolted off.
Valdi and the others let out frightening shouts of utter glee as they slashed and hacked the Gaels in their path. Sword clanged against sword. Several were lifted from hands and strewn about the beach. One after another, the Gaels retreated under the onslaught.
Save the horses, Bruic shouted.
Kellach, with sword and shield in hand, made it over the six-foot panels on the side of the ship. She looked around but couldn't see Bruic. A Gael came running to her, brandishing his sword.
Stop, she cried. When he didn't, she parried and thrust her sword into his shoulder. Back, you fool.
He dropped his sword and went down, clutching himself, rolling as far away from her as possible. Then, screaming and cursing, he jumped to his feet and ran up the beach toward the road.
Alma and Elva followed Kellach over the side of the ship, scrambling to get their balance in the leap from the ship's edge. They ran from loose horse to loose horse, grabbing the reins and dragging the animals away from the action, nearer to the rocky ledges. They fastened the reins down with heavy stones and ran to catch more horses. In all, they managed to hang on to five, the others fleeing back to the fort.
Kellach and Bruic, whom she now caught sight of, were standing, turning, twisting in and out of the fight. Kellach slashed to the right and whipped the sword out of a Gael's hand, making it turn over and over in the air until it made its descent into the sand, swaying and throbbing. Bruic ducked under a man holding a Gaelic sword, rose and battered the man to the ground. He spun around, ducked again and caught one man at the knees. Screaming and swearing, they both tumbled to the sand and began pummeling each other until one swift jab of Bruic's large fist stunned the man into silence. He crawled away in defeat.
More men came down the road at a fast pace. They came from the third cove and barely stopped. Riders, ho! a tall, thin Norse sailor bellowed.
Another screamed with laughter as the Gaels rode by, not stopping to help their brethren at all. He stood there waving and laughing until he turned swiftly and his sword went into the neck of a Gael with a downward swipe.
Slowly, the Norse formed a line of gallant men. They backed the remaining Gaels, still plying their swordplay, onto the road in the direction of the fort.
Bring the horses, Bruic cried.
Elva ran up with three of them. Bruic passed them off to Valdi and two others. His own big black stood quietly next to Alma, having been ridden by one of Morfinn's men. Bruic rushed over to him and leaped on. He pounded off the beach in pursuit of the fleeing Gaels.
The three women were left on the beach with several wounded Gaels and three of the Norsemen. Kellach turned to Alma. I am a healer. Let me see what I can do for those men. If I can help them, I will. They only obeyed the foolish instructions of their king.
Yea, Alma said, Elva and I will help you. We also have some skills in that direction.
The three women went from man to man. Some were wounded so badly they would not live. Those they could help, they did.
One of the Gaels grabbed Kellach's ankle, wrestled her to the ground and attempted to choke her. Elva reached to the sand and picked up sword that Kellach had made fly through the air. She darted to the man and put the sword his throat. Do one thing to my sister and you'll never speak again.
Sister, the man squeaked. She has no sister.
She does now, Elva said, pressing the tip of the sword closer to his throat.
Leave off. Leave off, he cried. He rolled and let Kellach go.
With a quick shake of her head, she rose. I hope the fighting is done, she said, her voice cracking and her throat sore. Let's go to the fort.
Chapter Twenty-Five
>Bruic and the rest of the Norsemen herded the Gaels up the road like sheep, keeping them facing front and moving forward. Morfinn's Gaels no longer wanted to fight. They marched through the fort gateway. Morfinn and Ronan, backed by a contingent of guardsmen, stood waiting for them, swords drawn.
Morfinn screeched, Where are the rest of me men?
Bruic rode the black to him, before stopping. Where they belong. In hell. He looked at Ronan. And you'll be joining them if you don't clear out of here.
Holding his sword in front of him, Ronan smirked. I'll leave as soon as the woman I'm to wed is returned to me. We have a wedding to plan.
If that woman is Kellach, then you'll be hard pressed to wed her. You have no claim on her.
Fergus and Lunn stood together in the distance, behind some of the huts, unseen by anyone not on horse. Fergus raised his hand in a signal that all was well.
Bruic smiled then continued, Yea, there'll be a wedding here, but it will be mine, he shouted to the men around him.
That remark must have spurred Ronan on, for he waved to his special men and moved toward Bruic, with deadly intent. I swore a long time ago that I would put my blade in your stomach, he said, walking in a straight line over the fort's yard to Bruic, who was still on his horse. Climb down, Norseman.
As Kellach, Alma and Elva came through the gateway, Fergus and Lunn came from behind the beehive huts. They crossed the nearest pasture to the road. A grim line of Dun Geata Gaels trailed after them, including some of the women with pitchforks. Their walk was purposeful and steady.
Alma marched across the yard and went directly to Morfinn. Och, King Morfinn. We meet again.
Who are ye, woman? he asked. I don't know ye.
When I wouldn't marry you years ago, you set the Norse, who were raiding at that time, on this clan and its people. Through the years, you told everyone my daughter was cursed. It's you who's cursed! Alma screamed at him, raising her fist high in the air.
What proof are ye having of that, lady? Morfinn asked, moving backward inch by inch as Alma came forward to him. Ye have no proof.
Alma, Lunn cried out. He turned to everyone who followed. 'Tis Alma. She's been returned to us. He ran, his arms wide open, his sword dangling from one hand.
Bewildered, Morfinn stood there for a moment. He jumped backward once, waved and then hollered to his men, Attack.
He screeched louder, not paying any attention to the Gaels now entering the yard from across the road. Attack. Let's rid our world of these Norsemen. With his sword high, Morfinn rushed past Ronan. None of their men followed him. I'll kill ye, ye bastard. We had a bargain.
You broke that bargain a long time ago, Morfinn. Bruic slid off the horse and lifted his shield from the saddle. His sword came out of its sheath with a whooshing sound. Morfinn charged him, his sword poised for stabbing at Bruic's back.
Badger, Lunn shouted, entering the yard.
The clash and clang of the two swords meeting rent the air. His sword poised for doing great damage, Morfinn rushed at Bruic again and again. Bruic parried each cut of the sword so it didn't touch him. Morfinn became more enraged each time he thrust, and the path his sword took was blocked. At last, in his anger, he ran full force into the arc of one of Bruic's parries. He could not stop his forward motion, impaled himself on Bruic's sword and fell to the ground, writhing.
Ronan dropped his sword and tore to Morfinn's side. He held the man in his arms and slapped at his face softly. Morfinn. Morfinn. Can you hear me?
Morfinn, in Ronan's arms, cackled one more order, Kill…
Then the damage was complete. He died, gurgling and spewing blood over his stepson.
Ronan raised his sword, Morfinn's blood soaking into his tunic. Now I have even more reason to kill you. It was not enough that you took Kellach from me, you have now taken my stepfather.
None of Morfinn or Ronan's men moved to help their fallen leader. They lay all their battle gear on the shale of the fort yard and knelt.
Is this something you really want to do, Ronan, or would you prefer that we work out our disagreements another way? Bruic pulled his sword from Morfinn's chest and turned to the gathered crowd. He walked toward Ronan without a word.
Ronan stood. He raised the tip of his sword higher. I want Kellach, he hissed.
Bruic shook his head. No.
I want to know that she's happy.
Kellach ran into the small circle created by the crowd of fallen Gaels. She went directly to Ronan and put a hand on his arm. Ronan, I have always cared for ye as one might for a bothersome friend. Since I was a little girl and we first met. I do not wish to see ye harmed. Do not do this thing. Do not do anything for which ye'll be sorry.
He turned toward her. Kell, I have loved you forever. I have always wanted you to wife. Things stood in our way all the time. Now it's the Badger.
Nae, Ronan. He does not stand in your way. I do. If you were to lay a hand on him in anger, I would be forced to kill you. I don't want to do that. You've been a friend of sorts. And I would like it to stay that way.
But Kell, I love you. I have always loved you.
Ronan's pitiful expression tore at her heart. Nae. It's just that your stepfather said you couldn't have me. That's why you wanted me so badly. It was never to be…
Bruic walked closer to her. Come, Ronan. Let us speak together and see if we can't solve our difficulties. Come into my home. We talk alone.
My stepfather never went anywhere if his guards couldn't go with him.
You are to be a guest in my home. I will leave my weapons outside. We'll talk like men. Remember, Ronan, you are now a king. Act like one-but do not follow in your stepfather's footsteps. Come, man.
Kellach watched the two men walk off together.
~*~
Bruic stood aside and let Ronan precede him into the hut. The younger man's shoulders were bent and Bruic kept his eyes on the arm Ronan might use to wield his dagger.
Sit down, Ronan. We'll converse. Perhaps, settle our differences, other than Kellach. She does not enter into our talks. She is mine and will remain so.
I'll stand. Let's make this quick, Ronan said, twisting one side of his lip upward and folding his arms across his chest in an effort at defiance. Obviously my men have refused to fight further. We all realize how futile it would be with all the Dun Geata men aligned with yours.
The Dun Geata men are doing nothing more than protecting what they considered their land.
Then why don't they attack you?
Because I have done nothing to warrant it. They know now that I am Irish born and wish them no harm. I did not shed any blood in our initial raid, nor since.
Ronan turned away. That means nothing. My stepfather never shed any of their blood either.
No? Bruic smiled in disbelief.
Nae, he did not.
Then who told the Norsemen twenty years ago to attack this very fort? Was it not your stepfather?
Ronan whirled around. How do you know about that? I was a child then and only heard about it later.
I was with them, when your stepfather arranged the gruesome raid. It was an unfortunate time in my life. But I was there.
Ronan brought his hands up to his face. Oh, God help me!
Nay. You must help yourself. Let me tell you who I really am. I am Bruic. Not the Badger, but Bruic of your stepfather's clan.
That cannot be, Ronan gasped.
Yea. It is. Morfinn brought the Norse to the monastery where I studied. My family was visiting with me. During the raid, I managed to hide my little sister and my brother. I watched his men kill my mother and father before the Norse took me for a slave. Morfinn stole the kingship from my father and what he did to my younger sister and brother, I do not know.
Ronan sat on one of the benches of the front room. He seemed bewildered and upset. When he looked up, his eyes were wet with unaccustomed tears. My stepfather never told me these things.
He wouldn't. I'm sure he was forever ashamed of his evil deeds. But he was not a king, not ever. Bruic walked to the door and leaned against it. All I would have is my sister and brother restored to me.
Ronan nodded. They are alive and well. Your brother farms a small plot away from the clan and your sister married a blacksmith from the village. They both live in peace. They do not know of these things.
They were too young. I was only seven when I was taken. But, Ronan, understand this. They are of royal blood. They are my kin and I choose to have them here with me. I expect you to inform them and, if they agree, to deliver them here in safety.
A sly look crossed Ronan's face. And what do I get in return? You have Kellach. And now, do you wish to take my people from me?
Bruic frowned. They were never your people. My father had been the over-king. I will resume that title but I will live here at An Dun Geata.
And if I don't agree…
You forfeit your life and possibly the lives of your people. I wish to make this bargain with you.
Aye, Ronan said in a rush.
You can remain a king under my guidance. As the oldest son in my family, I will become your over-king again. You will rule quietly, within the confines of my good wishes. Otherwise… Bruic let the statement hang in the air.
Otherwise, I die.
That's correct. Otherwise you die and so do all those who oppose me. This is the only bargain I make and you have less than one minute to give me your answer.
Ronan paced the confines of the front room but kept his distance from Bruic. He mumbled to himself. Bruic ignored him and looked out the door.
When Ronan stopped and stared at him, Bruic said, I assume this arrangement is to your liking. You do not lose stature with your clan. You will now be a minor king instead of your stepfather's son. A man to be reckoned with. Bruic hesitated and waited for Ronan to nod before continuing, Then we are in agreement. I have Kellach, An Dun Geata and retain my father's position as over-king.
Ronan smiled, but it was not a pleasant smile. You leave me little choice.
How much is your life worth to you? Bruic refused to smile. He kept his face grim.
Ronan sighed deeply. I agree. I will take my men home with me.
Immediately, Ronan. And you will send my brother and sister here.
Aye.
Good, Bruic said. He nodded to Ronan and allowed him to go first through the doorway to the yard.
~*~
When the two men left the fort's yard and went into the hut, the Dun Geata men stood guard over Morfinn's men. The Norsemen stood on the periphery of the crowd.
Kellach heaved a sigh of relief. The women and children of Dun Geata crowded around her. She saw Olwen and her new babe. Och, Olwen, I am so glad to be reunited with you. I have so much to tell you, but first…
She scanned the crowd. Let my mother and my sister come through, please, she called out, smiling at the crowd that parted to let her mother and Elva through.
Olwen, do you remember my mother? she asked.
Aye, I do. Milady… Olwen dipped her knees in deference.
Alma gathered the woman in her arms. You were always such a sweet girl. I'm glad you and Kellach stayed friends.
Lunn poked his way through the crowd. He stood on the near fringe, his hands planted on his hips. How long will it take ye, Alma, to be acknowledging this old warrior?
Och, my God. Lunn. It is you. I was almost afraid to hope, Alma said as the tears at seeing her oldest friend tumbled from her eyes.
Lunn moved to her with his arms open. She came right into them. 'Tis glad I am to have ye back where ye belong, lass. 'Tis too long a time apart.
Some of the Dun Geata Gaels cheered softly, but slowly everyone grew quiet. Ronan and Bruic came out of the stone hut. Everyone stared at the two men. Tension filled the air around the crowd, but Bruic ignored it. The two walked to the one big rock left in the yard.
Bruic stood on it and laid his hand on Ronan's shoulder. I will explain the following more fully to all of you when we celebrate. I am your new over-king.
The crowd cheered, even Ronan's men took heart when they saw the agreement between the two men.
I have settled our differences with your new minor king, Ronan, who will take his stepfather's place in his old clan. We have come to an understanding about the future of our clans. He bent down to Ronan. Come up on the rock with me. Your people should hear proclamations from their king.
Ronan climbed up on the rock. The two stood shoulder to shoulder, showing their solidarity. My men and I will be leaving the area within hours. There is little left for Bruic and me to be settled out. An Dun Geata will have a larger portion of the peninsula…
Cheers from the crowd erupted. Neighbor slapped neighbor in good fun.
Also, there will be free passage between our people, so you may all come and go at will. This I promise as your king.
More cheers split the air. The ones from Ronan's men were the loudest.
Now, for my news, Bruic said. I will become your over-king as soon as we can get a priest to this spot.
Why? asked one of the folks standing closest to the rock.
We don't want a Norseman for our king. Let a Gael be king. You can stay here, said another.
We have no need of a priest, said Lunn.
Yea, we do. First of all, I am not a Norseman. I am a Gael. The Norse stole me more than twenty-five years ago. I have lived amongst them, become friends with many but am now able to return to my homeland, this island.
A buzz went through the spectators as they bandied about this news. Suddenly, they all looked up at once. A low rumbling cheer ran through the group. The cheer grew louder and louder. They laughed and patted each other in a frenzy of good will.
I have more news, Bruic said, interrupting their pleasure. He gestured to the woman who stood before him. Come, Kell. Join me on the rock. He helped her up. She, in her tattered, bloodstained tunic, stood tall and proud. I intend to marry with your queen.
The cheers resounded, drawing the birds from their caves and echoing over the sea. Kellach couldn't remember when she had seen An Dun Geata's folks so joyful. She looked up at Bruic with love in her eyes. Just then, Grian the huge hound caught sight of her and leaped upon the rock. Bruic, Kellach and Ronan fell off with the force of the dog's energy, and the crowd roared its approval of the fun.
As Grian licked her face, Kellach's arms went around him, and Bruic's around her. They caught the dog between them. Grian couldn't move. The young couple kissed and the people of An Dun Geata cheered on and on in anticipation of the celebration to come.
The End
About the author of Unlawful
>>
Dorice Nelson began her writing career after an early retirement from teaching and a move to the mountains in upstate New York, where she lives with her attorney husband, also a novelist, a happy-go-lucky mixed-breed dog and two personality-plus cats, all from a local shelter.
Needing an all-encompassing goal in life, she selected writing novels as a likely step to her future, never dreaming anything could be harder than 17 years of teaching school. Boy, was she fooled. Dorice entered the world of writing with both feet and freely admits it is her most satisfying career ever.
She has won or placed in eleven Romance Writers of America chapter contests and finaled in many more. She sold her very first completed novel, The Gunn of Killearnan,> a historic and romantic adventure, set in 1650 Scotland, to NovelBooks, Inc. (NBI) Her second book, Unlawful, >an Irish medieval/adventure set during the time of the Norse raids, arrives on the NBI scene in January. Presently, she's working on another Irish historical, set during the beginnings of the Saratoga Thoroughbred Racing years. Two contemporary thrillers are in the offing.
Dorice lives in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York, with her attorney husband, also a writer. A mixed breed dog with a glorious nature and two independent cats rule the entire household. Dorice can be reached by sending snail mail to Dorice Nelson, P.O. Box 728; Saranac Lake, NY 12983 or e-mail to DoriceNelson@aol.com
by
Dorice Nelson
>To become chief of his clan, warrior Gerek Gunn, Scotland's renowned Beast of Battle, must marry a woman not of his own choosing. That's how things were done-or so he thought, before he met the fiery beauty destined to be his wife.>
Catriona MacFarr had no intention of marrying a man known as the 'Beast'-he sounded so much like her vicious and savage father that she was horrified. Such a lifelong disaster could not be, no matter the consequences! Never…..
>ISBN #1-931696-01-2 (eBook)
ISBN #1-931696-98-5 (Print)
> www.doricenelson.com>_____________________________________________________________________________________
Unlawful
>by >Dorice Nelson
>Butchery branded their introduction… Enslavement parted them…Thus began the time for bravery or betrayal…and checkmate!
Deadlocked by a cursed legend, Kellach must find her mother to remove a Druid's Curse and save her people from the rampaging Norse. Bruic the Badger, must find Irish ports for the Norsemen to save his sons and find his lost Irish siblings. Neither had time for love. Fate and circumstance took the advantage away from both…
ISBN #1-931696-16-0 (eBook)
ISBN #1-931696-83-7 (Print)
> www.doricenelson.com>
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