Time of the Picts: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 2)

by Jane Stain

  Morna glowered with smugness at this revelation.

  "Yes, and she cannot be trusted, so she should just help us with the trade carts, not go near the sacred grove. In fact, we should take her sword from her. It's not safe to have an armed stranger amongst us, now is it?"

  This had to stop.

  Right now.

  Breth took Jaelle by the hand and turned on his heel, resolutely walked her toward the Grove, only speaking over his shoulder at Brude and Leo, right over Morna’s head. Again.

  "As I said, Deoord has already gifted Jaelle with the woad twice, and she did us proud. She's accompanying my clan, not any of the others. You are welcome to do as you will, but we will have Jaelle as one of our warriors on our journey. Good day and safe travels."

  He half expected Morna to follow him and chasten his back, but she didn’t. She’d grown smarter, as well as better at command. It made him smile.

  Once they were out of earshot, he spoke to Jaelle from the corner of his mouth, still scanning ahead for signs that anyone saw Morna following them. So far, so good.

  "We simply must be married as soon as possible. That's the only way to stop all these musings about how you’re here as a spy and not loyal to the clans. It’s highly unusual that we’ve waited this long to marry. Deoord can perform the ceremony as soon as we get to the sacred grove."

  But Jaelle's face was closed to him, and she fingered the helmet stuck in her belt in its sack. She wasn't going to comply. He was going to lose her.

  When she spoke, her voice was a little choked up. Good, she might still change her mind and stay. He would have to work on her.

  "Sorry, Breth. Marriage is not something to rush into. I do want to marry you, and I’m going to find a way to be here without interruption for six months, getting to know you and your family and your ways. That's all I ask, and I don't think it's too much to ask. Six months is a short engagement where I come from. If you respect me, then you'll grant this request."

  They were stepping into the grove now.

  Deoord, Ia, and Boanne nodded at Jaelle in greeting as she approached them, but then shook their heads no in answer to some unasked question she had.

  Surprising him, she disrobed matter-of-factly this time, with her head held high like the warrior she was. Doing him proud, she stood there nonplussed as they decorated her with the woad, even smiling at him a time or two and giving him a wink once!

  It made his desire for her swell, and he just about salivated as he watched the druids paint dragons on her back, on her legs, and on her chest, their fire breathing up her breasts and under her chin. She was a spectacular work of art.

  She did deserve her request. His parents would never grant it, but he wanted her radiant for this last day together, so he said nothing.

  Once she was decorated, she took his hand and they walked together toward where the clan gathered for their walk to their next home.

  As was typical of her, Morna hadn’t given up. This trait would serve her well as a clan chieftain's wife and co-leader, but it was darn inconvenient at the moment. She strutted over to them with two new clan chieftains, Ru and Cal.

  As before, the two men were old planning chieftains, past their prime, past warriorhood. Which only meant they had more authority than Breth did at these multi-clan gatherings.

  As before, Morna made sure she led the charge, but this time her hands were carefully by her sides and she maintained her poise and attractiveness, looking at Breth flirtatiously as she spoke to the other men. This befitted the wife of a clan chieftain, darn her artfulness.

  "Here she is. Let's take her over to guard the carts. You’re right, Breth my dear. No sense letting a warrior go to waste. She's all decorated up and ready, so she’ll be a good asset to the wagon train.”

  Morna was flouncing over with her arm out to take him in a half embrace right there in front of Jaelle when the first volley of arrows came down around their heads.

  Chapter 12

  Even as she drew her sword to fight off whoever had shot those arrows, Jaelle fumed. Every other moment, Morna stormed over and demanded to have things her way. The little brat needed a good spanking.

  But the sight of Breth ordering Morna away brought a smile to Jaelle’s lips clear through her anger. This was the second time he had come to her social defense today, and hadn’t he been great, telling those other chieftains to have a nice day? Ha!

  Jaelle’s feet took her toward the cover of the trees, but also in the direction of the battle she could hear beating over the hill outside the grove as her head boiled with conflicting thoughts.

  What an absolute gentleman Breth had been, telling those chieftains to mind their own business and let his clan mind theirs. He was third-in-command of the whole clan after his father and mother, and he had told those other chieftains what was what. For her.

  She hoped the enemy would find her huge grin frightening rather than weak.

  The first enemy out of a seemingly endless horde of Gaels in billowy knee-length dresses — both men and women — could be seen running up behind Morna.

  As of yet oblivious to the threat, the woman Breth’s mother wanted him to marry was sneering at Jaelle. ‘Ha ha, he ran off without you,’ Morna’s look said even as the Gaelic man raised his sword at her back.

  Without a second thought, Jaelle lowered her weapon at Morna’s attacker as she ran, causing him to dodge away.

  And saving the other woman’s life.

  There was no indication Morna was aware of the peril she’d been in, let alone who had rescued her. In fact, she sneered all the harder as she crawled under a bush and then skittered away like the little rat she was.

  Even as Jaelle watched this show of contempt aimed at her, she didn’t at all regret the instinct that had caused her to act.

  Why don’t I regret saving her? It would have been so easy. I could have just let the man get Morna. It wouldn’t have been my fault. No one would have blamed me. Not even Morna.

  No, she didn’t regret her impulse to defend Morna. In fact, as Jaelle ducked behind a tree and jabbed to keep the Gael away, she felt happy. Because of her, the other woman had escaped into the bushes and would live out this day.

  But I hate her, don’t I?

  The Gael jabbed back from the other side of the tree, and using a move borrowed from aikido, Jaelle subtly leaned to the side so that his sword missed her.

  I do hate her. So why did I save her? And why am I glad to have done it?

  While the Gael was off balance, Jaelle got her own jab in, and hit, and moved on toward the battle.

  She still hadn’t killed anyone, but she was awfully glad to have a blade in her hands. A way to defend herself and others. And then her mind started arguing with her. If Morna had known what Jaelle did, would Morna even thank her?

  Jaelle blinked the thought away. Getting a thank-you wasn't the point. She knew that much.

  Looking around for Breth, Jaelle took on the next enemy.

  And the next.

  Her best defense was to stay amongst the thick trees where only one person could come at her at once, so she didn't seek the higher ground where she might have an overview of the battle. It had to be huge force that could take on a thousand Picts.

  And the Gaels had to have come up the river. It was the only unguarded approach. This fact niggled at the back of her mind while she fought one warrior after another, growing more and more tired and more and more determined not to succumb to exhaustion.

  She was still proud of herself that she hadn't killed any of them, had but cut them so they wouldn't be able to fight anymore this day. However, she knew that sooner or later she would have to kill if she stayed here.

  Chapter 13

  Sure that Jaelle was right behind him, Breth fought for the high ground immediately, needing to see just how big the battle was. He made it to the top of the hill and peered through the rocks — and saw a swath of Gaels. They were overrunning the ten clans, there were so many Gaels.

/>   He fought his way down the hill, still sure that Jaelle was close behind him. She wouldn’t dive for cover the way the non-fighting women were trained to do at the first sign of trouble. He cut down first one Gael —a woman on his right— and then another —a man on his left— as they straggled up toward the sacred grove.

  Jaelle should be at my side by now. Did she fall?

  He looked up the hill he had just fought his way down. The way was clear, and so he ran back up there. Looking down into the thick trees, he didn't see her. She wasn't coming up here.

  Should I go after her?

  No, no. Warrior’s Code: Don’t get separated in battle, but if you do, then stay separate. Don’t lose your head trying to rejoin your partner.

  She would be all right, or she wouldn't. It would be foolish for him to try and do anything about it right now.

  It seemed like it took him forever to turn back. He ran over the hill and began his way down into the broch valley where all ten clans were fighting for their lives, save for the few who may have made it into the broch. Everyone would have an honorable death at least.

  The gatherers huddled in the middle of the carts where they had been trading, visibly losing hope at being defended from the outside and just waiting until they were taken over. Determined to save them or die trying, he ran.

  And then out of the cloudy Highland sky, Drest’s strange sword reflected a stray ray of sunlight as he led his band of renegades in a mad charge from the field to the left of the broch. With a loud whoop and holler, they crashed into the backs of the Gaels who had surrounded the carts.

  For a few moments, all Breth could hear was the ringing of swords and spears and shields.

  Drest had even more fighters than the Gaels did. With one clash from his forces, the tide of the battle had turned. Now the Gaels were the ones being overrun and outnumbered.

  Breth hacked and slashed his way down over the next hour, but he didn't even make it to the carts before he saw the last of the standing Gaels. The battle was over. The vast majority of the Gaels were running back over the hill and down to the river and away. If they’d had tails, they would be between their legs, they were running away so fast.

  Drest may have been brash and crude and presumptive, but he was quite the battle commander. The ability to command so many ragtag men with no clan loyalty was a feat that in Breth’s memory no other had accomplished.

  Every year a few single men left the clan, dissatisfied with the leadership and wanting to run things their own way. Most were never heard of again, but some came back when they were old, begging their way into the clan’s protection. Some even succeeded at this, and Breth had heard the stories they told. Without exception, life on their own hadn’t been as they’d imagined, but they’d been too stubborn to come back until they couldn’t manage on their own.

  And Drest commanded a thousand such men who were yet young. Incredible.

  Brude, Leo, Ru, and Cal had all made their way over to Drest and were patting him on the back and then shaking forearms with him — pledging themselves and their clans under his protection.

  Before long, those surrounding the small brown man with the odd sword had taken up a group cheer usually saved for drunken nights around the Beltane bonfire.

  “Rrr rrr rrr rrr!”

  A spontaneous party was breaking out, complete with musicians playing and people dancing and hugging each other. Morna had rejoined the gatherers, who had opened up the carts and were tossing bags of rations to Drest’s men, some of whom had already been to the broch and carried out kegs of ale.

  Breth couldn't shake off the awe that had overtaken him on seeing the Gaels dispatched so quickly. He’d never seen them run away so scared.

  The fighter celebration was in full force by the time Breth arrived. Even Father was there. He caught Father’s eye, and a look passed between them.

  "I know I said we should maintain our independence," said Father’s look, "howsoever, you saw what happened here. We’re in a vice grip. We have the invaders from the south on one side and the Gaels on the other. We need this alliance. I was wrong. We’re going to backup Drest. We’ll join with him."

  "Are you sure?" Breth asked Father with his own look. "We can still leave, move on to the next broch." Breth looked over his shoulder toward Broch Seven, where they’d been headed.

  "No," Father said with not only his eyes, but also with the firm line of his lips pressed together and the squareness of his shoulders in the Warrior’s stance. “I can admit I was wrong. I can't keep on the wrong path once I've seen the right way to go, and we’re making a turn here."

  Breth held up his hands in the oldest sign of surrender known to man. He smiled a grim smile at Father and shrugged a little in acquiescence.

  "You are the clan chief. I defer to you."

  Drest and his top ragtag men had been hoisted up on the shoulders of men who were still loyal to their clans. Men who had deserted were being lifted up as heroes. Perhaps just one mistake didn't mean a man's life was over and irredeemable. Perhaps they were now on the right path, helping.

  Breth met Father’s eyes again and nodded in the direction of their saviors.

  Father nodded and gestured.

  “Yes, we should go over and join in on the back patting and the general festivities.”

  So they did. And before long, everyone was relaxing around a huge bonfire topped with the clothes of fallen Gaels — who had been conscripted as slaves, very few being dead.

  Drest got up on top of a mound of rocks that his men had assembled for his small stature. He stood up there turning around and around slowly, waiting for everyone to quiet down so they could hear him. Finally, when only the flapping of the flames in the wind competed with his voice, he spoke.

  “We will be staying here and fortifying the area. It is the best place from which to stage raids on the wall. We will leave the broch’s roof un-thatched against future fire attacks, and we will all be safer because of our great numbers."

  The cheers started low, but then twenty more people joined in and thirty others until gradually it became a call of war that could doubtless be heard by their retreating enemies.

  Breth looked around for Jaelle, but he didn’t see her.

  Chapter 14

  Jaelle didn't see Breth anywhere amid all the fighting, but she did recognize three female woaded warriors from his clan. She had spent time training them in modern sword fighting techniques, and they had trekked together out to the cave.

  They made her part of their defensive circle now in the sacred grove, all back-to-back. But oddly, the Gaels were just running by now. Running by in droves. For a bit, the women watched anxiously, prepared to battle any Gaels that turned on them. But when none did, they began a tense back-to-back conversation.

  "Have you seen Breth?" she asked them as her eyes scanned the Gaels running by in their flowy dresses.

  "Aye, he went down the hill toward the cart staging area."

  "Is that far?"

  "It's too far to go right now, Jaelle. Maybe later…"

  Jaelle knew the woman was just being nice. It didn't appear there would be a later. The Gaels kept running by, probably to surround them, and even here in the forest where cover was adequate, there were too many Gaels for the Picts to last long. She wished she had Breth here to spend her final moments with, but his clanswomen would have to do.

  "It is been my honor to fight by you."

  "Jaelle, you honor us by being here. And we would stand with you as our new clan chieftain’s wife."

  "Aye. You bring as much to the table as she does. More, even."

  "I can't let this go untold. I wasn’t really sent by the Druids. I just found the helmet in my … unfaithful man’s left behind things."

  "We knew that."

  "You did?"

  "Aye, we did."

  "How?"

  "We just… Come on, why would druids send a warrior back? They keep to themselves. If they were to send anyone back, it would be
another druid."

  "Rumor has it they do send other druids back, and it's never a good thing for the clan that gets a visit."

  "Aye, 'tis often quite a bad thing indeed."

  "Please tell. I can't die without hearing about this."

  "It's just rumors and whispers, you know."

  "I know, but those are often true, right?"

  "Well, this is unseen in our lifetime, and if the Druids have seen it, they aren’t telling the rest of us. It's rumored the druids from the future send druids back for their own selfish reasons, not to help the rest of us."

  "Oh, tell her the real stories. Don’t beat around the bush."

  At this, they all laughed, because they had all just been beating at Gaels around bushes.

  "These Druids when they come, they always come in white robes. They're looking for ordinary things that have special properties — such as your helmet."

  "The druids welcome them as if they are traveling from another country, just passing through."

  "They say you'll know the visitor druid is from the future by his or her complete inability to survive alone."

  "Jaelle, you are not like that at all."

  "Aye, you've taught us skills way beyond our imagining with the sword and the spear and the dagger."

  "Aye, you are one of us."

  Oddly, the barrage of Gaels had stopped.

  All four women stood there looking at each other for a few moments, and then Jaelle turned to rush up the hill.

  Ione stopped her with a hand on the wrist.

  "You don't know what you may find over the top of that hill. The Gaels may have taken over down there."

  Jaelle calmly waited for the woman to let go of her wrist.

  "That may be, but if I don't find Breth, I don't really care."

  Ione let go of Jaelle's wrist just as Jaelle caressed the bag with the helmet.

  Doreen nodded toward the bag.

  "Get it out then, and be ready to use it."