by Jane Stain
Oho. Then there wasn't much difference between teens now and teens at home after all. That was oddly reassuring. She'd been starting to think she was on a planet of aliens and not really on Earth at all, seeing Galam show his mother so much respect.
She gave him a conspiratorial smile.
"I suppose that'll be fine. But you know word will get back to Breth. And it won't be me saying anything."
He looked relieved for the briefest second, but then he covered it up with what passed for being cool in this time: standing up straight in a fighting stance and handling the hilt of his sword.
"I'm not afraid of Breth. Anyway, as I said, nothing's going to happen to you in the broch."
And then she remembered the fire.
Quickly, she glanced over, and then sighed in relief. The roof was no longer thatched.
He must've seen where she looked, because he laughed a little.
"What, did you think I was setting you up?"
She gave him her best warrior's appraising look: calm, but the tiniest bit challenging.
"One can never be too careful."
He relaxed a bit and laughed like they were old friends.
"You have a chance with Breth. He plainly prefers you. But you need to stick around, or that won't matter. We men are opportunists when it comes to women." He looked her over. "You’re old enough to know that."
By now they were halfway to the broch, and the area was teeming with activity. Fighters were practicing and children were running about playing. Some of them were herding the animals — and Jaelle would have bet they were all supposed to be doing so.
It was another source of unexpected relief, to see that children were pretty much the same always. Though they really did show their parents a lot more respect to their faces in this time.
She watched the general hubbub with a growing sense of peace and belonging. When she'd first shown up and seen all the extra people, she'd been anxious. Everyone had stared at her. And then they had seen Breth watching her and backed off — though not very confidently.
Now that she was walking with Talorac though, all these strangers appeared to accept that she wasn't an enemy. They were not exactly friendly — no one said a word to her, and they didn't ask Talorac about her.
Breth's brother walked right up to the guard at the door to the broch.
"Jaelle is a guest of Breth's. She is to be given respect and provisions, and a place to sleep if she needs it. She awaits his return."
The guard nodded and turned to open the door.
And Talorac turned to leave.
Jaelle's apprehension surprised her.
Her mouth tried to open and beg him to stay with her after all.
But she firmly clamped her teeth over her tongue. She was a big girl. She could take care of herself.
Anyway, Talorac was gone.
The guard gestured her into the vestibule and closed the outer door after them before he opened the inner door and called out to the nearest person.
Who happened to be Morna.
Ugh.
"Take heed and please spread the news. This is Breth's guest awaiting his return. She is to be given provisions and a place to sleep if needed."
Against her will, Jaelle turned to follow him back into the vestibule, but he had closed the door already. She was standing in a 30-foot-wide circular room with the woman who might've had Breth, if Jaelle hadn't come along.
Wonderful.
Jaelle looked around to see if there was anybody else in the vicinity.
Thankfully there was. Women were packing up excess bedding and feeding their children. But they pointedly ignored the scene at the door ― though they did seem to be moving closer than they needed to in order to perform their various tasks.
Morna looked like the cat who ate the canary.
"If you think I'm going to help you get something to eat or a place to sleep—"
But Jaelle pushed past Morna and turned to the right, then pushed through the door into the stairwell between the two outer walls.
"No problem. I can show myself upstairs. I know where to go."
This did not go over well with Morna at all. She huffed a little bit and struggled to say something scathing.
But she didn't manage to say anything at all before Jaelle was going up the stairs. And then she finally thought of something.
"Don't get too comfortable!"
Hitching up her skirt and basically crawling up the steep narrow stone staircase between the two outer walls, Jaelle laughed all the way to the fourth floor.
And when she went in the door there, she saw just the person she was hoping to see.
Chapter 6
Breth loved being here in the Sacred Grove, but he didn’t like these meetings with all the chieftains. There was no one clear leader, and that was a problem. No one could indicate it was anyone’s turn to speak, so everyone spoke at once. It was maddening.
On Breth’s right, Uradech was speaking the loudest.
“We should hear him out. They say he’s an amazing fighter and leader. He could unite us all against the invaders.”
Four other chieftains called out their agreement.
“We should!”
“Aye!”
“We’d be stronger together!”
“Let’s bring the battle to the invaders!”
On Breth’s left, Father spoke calmly to Mother, who hung on his every word, nodding in agreement.
“Our clan must remain separate and able to protect ourselves as we see fit. If we join with all the rest of the clans under one leader, how is he going to listen to each and every one of us? He can’t. And he’ll have so much power, his head will swell. He’ll become selfish, even if he didn’t start that way.“
Breth could see both points of view.
Uradech’s voice was growing heated.
“Our voices won’t matter one bit when the invaders run the lucky among us into the ground and make the rest their slaves. They already have too many of us. If we unite, we can get our people back and prevent more from being taken.”
Father’d had enough. It was evident by the set of his jaw and the clenching of his fists.
Breth looked over to Mother, beseeching her to use her calming touch and prevent Father from dividing the people even more.
But Mother gave Breth her ‘quit it’ look.
That was when Breth knew. No matter what they said at this meeting, trouble was coming.
Trying to help Father maintain his dignity as a chieftain who didn’t lose control of himself, Breth stood up to answer Uradech himself.
But that was the wrong thing to do.
Father put his hand on Breth’s shoulder and pulled him down, rising up himself.
Mother gave Breth a reproachful look that he just knew was about him cavorting with Jaelle and spurning Morna, as much as if not more than about what had just happened. She took her husband’s hand, supporting him.
Father pulled mother up to stand beside him.
All this had taken but a moment, and Uradech was still speaking.
Father butted in very forcefully, with all the authority he had in his considerable frame.
“If this sort of unification is forced on my clan, we will leave and become our own people. Each one of us is the only thing in this life. Other people are there for company and for children to further the people, but we each must have a say over our own life, or how are we alive? We are not meant to be tools for someone else to use as he sees fit. Each man and each woman is a life unto his or her own, and all of our lives must be respected always.”
Uradech plainly didn’t appreciate being interrupted, because all the while, he was yelling to be heard over Father.
“Individual personhood is not something we can consider when the invaders threaten to overrun and annihilate us! People can explore and discover and celebrate their lives in times of peace. In times of war, we all must pull together. The threat is so large that if we don’t, there won’t be any of us left to ce
lebrate our individual lives…”
Father and Uradech weren’t the only ones yelling. Almost everyone was talking at once. Only Breth and a few others were listening.
Even if I jump up and shout for them all to be still, I don’t think they will. There must be some way…
Breth hated feeling so helpless. He was usually able to command attention, but with all these chiefs in the room no one could. So he listened. For a long time into the night, he hoped to hear something of use, but no such fortune came. There were definitely two separate camps, and it didn’t appear the two could be reconciled.
Which camp should I join?
Stupid question.
No matter what I believe, I’ll stay with Father, my strongest tie. And he does have a point. Each of us does have to live our life on our own first and foremost―
All the talking stopped and everyone’s head turned toward the path leading up from the river, where a murmur started, making its way slowly over to Breth’s side of the grove.
“Drest is coming.”
“He’s so small.”
“What kind of sword is that?”
“He’ll unite us.”
“Where did he come from?”
“He’s so brown and foreign looking.”
“Look how many fighters he has with him.”
Father’s voice boomed in a whisper next to Breth in response to the latest murmur.
“I never thought I’d see any of those never-do-wells again.”
“Me neither.”
“Nay.”
As Drest came up the path from the river, he greeted a few of the chieftains by name and shook forearms with them.
Some turned away from his greeting.
Drest moved to the natural focus spot in the sacred Grove, the place where the Druids usually stood to draw woad clay decorations on the fighters before battle. He stood there and waited while everyone else sat down again, making him not seem so small.
The sword the small brown man carried was… indescribable. Of what sort of metal had it even been made? It looked too heavy for him.
Seeing everyone staring at it, he took it out and made some unusual moves with it that not even Jaelle used — and clearly the sword was not too heavy for him. Again, what was it made of?
And then Drest smiled. It was the smile of someone who knows a secret that is giving him power.
My fighters and I are fighting the fight that you all should be fighting. We’re taking it to the Romans. If you join us and we work hard enough, we can keep the Romans out of this area. The area south of that new wall is lost, but the area north of the wall can all be one nation. For right now, you have a choice. You can choose to join with me and receive training in how we fight—“
Uradech called out.
“Will we get weapons like yours?”
Drest regarded Uradech, weighing the man.
“No. I’m sorry I cannot produce any more like it. This is the only one. But the leader of the people should be distinguishable. The people need to have a clear leader to turn to, someone who makes decisions for all, or chaos will prevail. I overheard some of your discussion and I think you know what I mean. You have a week to join me, or I will take you over by force.”
After dropping his demand in their laps, Drest turned and walked back down toward the river without any ceremony or farewell, taking all of his men and his amazing sword with him.
The murmuring and arguing started up again as soon as he was out of sight. As before, half the people wanted to unite and half of the people didn’t.
“Let’s get everyone and take them out. What are we waiting for?”
“That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. With our warriors and his put together, we have more than we need to push those invaders out of our land, demolish their wall, and even see to it they don’t multiply anymore.”
Breth looked over at Father to see if he was as grieved as Breth was about this division among the people.
But if he was, he wasn’t showing it.
Chapter 7
Jaelle was relieved to see Deoord look up from where he was sitting with the clan's other druids at the round wooden table where they usually ate with the chieftain, his immediate family, and the messengers.
"Jaelle! I knew you would come back to us. You remember Ia and Boanne."
The female druids nodded at her as he named them.
Jaelle smiled at them and then felt awkward as she stood there waiting to be invited to come sit down. She hoped they weren't having a private meeting, because Morna was undoubtedly one floor up in Breth's room, waiting to give Jaelle a hard time the moment she set foot inside.
And this made her wonder. Had Morna been sharing that room with Breth? He'd said he was about to ask her to be his wife. If the two of them were that close... If there was any chance Morna was carrying Breth's child...
If that's the case, then should I be staying here? I'm an intruder, really.
Her hand went to the helmet.
Gasping, Deoord jumped up and ran over.
"Sorry to keep you standing there. Come on in and sit down. Our home is your home."
Reverently taking her hand, he pulled out the chair between the two female druids.
With a sigh of relief, Jaelle sat down. And got an idea. Would these friendly druids explain why so much time had passed here while she was away, even though time remained the same at home while she was here? But asking would reveal the fact that she knew less about the helmet than she should, if it were designed for her. She'd better come clean about how she was here.
"Thank you for the warm welcome, but..."
She lowered her voice to a whisper, not wanting to admit this to anyone but them. If they told anyone else, that would be their right, of course, but she didn't want anyone else to know if she could help it.
"I need to clear the air about how I got here."
She looked Deoord in the eye.
"You jumped to the conclusion that the druids of my time had sent me, and I let you keep that assumption out of self-preservation. But I know you'll eventually figure out the truth, and so I'm going to tell you, God help me."
At the mention of her God, the three druids sat up straighter and took a real interest in her, even more so than they had before. Interesting.
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
"It's true that druids control this helmet."
She tapped the bag on her belt, and when Ia and Boanne gave her questioning looks, she took the helmet out and put it on the table.
Ia looked at her with a question in her eyes.
Jaelle carefully slid the helmet across the table to her.
Gingerly, Ia took the helmet in her hands. As soon as she touched it, she jumped a little, as if she'd been shocked. With a look of wonder, she turned the helmet every which way, her smile growing bigger and bigger. Finally, she looked inside. And breathed out and in again as if in ecstasy.
Jaelle jumped up and went behind Ia to see what she was seeing.
"What is it?"
Ia reluctantly handed her the helmet.
"Hold it so the lamp lights the inside, and you'll see the runes."
Jaelle did so.
"What do they say?"
Ia shook her head sadly.
"They were made by Gaels."
Jaelle groaned.
"I can speak Gaelic, but I can't read it."
Boanne turned to Jaelle.
"Does the explanation of why you can speak the language of the Gaels have anything to do with what you were about to tell us?"
Jaelle gave Boanne a grimacing smile in acknowledgment of her perception.
"Only in a roundabout way. Do you want the long version, or the short?"
Deoord shrugged and looked around him.
"There are many hours before the chieftains will be ready for us to go down to the Sacred Grove and apply the woad for the trek back to their homes. The long version sounds interesting."
Jaelle sat
back down again and made herself as comfortable as she could in the face of the reaction she might possibly get now.
Make this good. Give them as much sympathy for you as possible...
"In my time we have fairs where we reenact history—"
Ia excitedly cut her off.
"Most of the clan members don’t realize it, but that's what all our gatherings are about too! Instilling our history in the people's memories as if—"
Deoord tapped Ia's shoulder with the back of his hand.
She sighed and shrugged before relaxing back into her seat and gesturing for Jaelle to continue.
Jaelle looked at Boanne, hoping she would butt in too, but no such luck.
"My parents were big historical reenactors, so I've been doing that ever since I can remember. That's how I know Gaelic. When I was 12 I fell in with a group of friends who included John, the man I thought I would marry. But just six months ago ― three weeks before our wedding ― he left me for another woman."
At this, all the druids looked skeptical, blinking at her with wrinkled brows.
Ia butted in again, God bless her.
"If you waited that long to marry, then how did you expect to have enough children to guarantee the continuation of your line?"
Jaelle blinked herself back into the first century.
"Advances in medicine from now until my time are indescribable. We have machines—"
All the druids looked at her funny, and she realized she'd used an English word. The helmet could only do so much. Most of the time, there was a Pictish word or a Pictish phrase that was close enough, and it automatically translated for her so that she didn't even notice. But occasionally, she would say an English word, which almost always meant she'd mentioned something far too modern.
She thought about it for moment.
"A machine is something a blacksmith and a tinker make together that has moving parts and runs on something other than human power."
The druids looked at each other in wonder and then turned to her and nodded that she should go on.
"Anyway, advances in medicine from your time to my time are to the point where we can keep almost all infants alive, no matter what birth defect they have or how premature they are or whatever abuse was carried out on the mother."
