‘And you rely on me,’ he said. ‘I'm not a stack of peat.’
He proved it too, standing on the flat platform, trotting the ponies around the field while she repeated the exercises she'd tried perfecting on the wall. There was a world of difference. The platform, sprung on its straps, was stable as the chariot bounced over ruts and clumps of grass, but her footing shook if she moved on to strut or pole. Automatically, she gripped the horses' harness or charioteer's straps to keep her balance. He sat, as he would in battle to let the warrior throw javelins. When she slipped, his hand grasped her belt, drawing her back from falling between horses' hooves and chariot wheels. While he drove, he moved, leaning to one side or the other, leaving space for her to go around him. After a while, he pulled the horses up.
‘It is like a dance,’ she enthused.
‘But for two,’ he said, ‘like fucking.’ He took the tie off his hair, shook it out, something else for her to grab hold of. ‘Now we go faster.’
Faster they went. Skaaha yanked a practice spear from the holder, used it to propel her from platform to pole and back, or to balance, not sure enough yet to attempt a throw. As the afternoon wore on, she stopped noticing the rough ground charging away beneath them, stopped looking down for footholds and began to trust the knowledge of her feet. Now the charioteer tested her, veering the chariot unexpectedly in different directions. It became a game, if she could stay on. Every time she missed her footing, he caught and pulled her back.
‘I keep you on,’ he said, as the wind whistled between their faces. ‘You kill the enemy before they kill me.’
‘Ho, Skaaha!’ It was Terra, at the edge of the field, with a bow and quiver of headless arrows. ‘Stop this.’ The arrow zinged past, glancing off the charioteer's shoulder. Giggling, Terra drew the bow again. Skaaha had no shield. Her charioteer swung the rig around, heading at speed towards the stable.
‘Go for her,’ Skaaha yelled, spear poised.
‘And die?’ he shouted back, grabbing her wrist. ‘Get the shield.’ The one he'd removed from the chariot was propped against the stable wall.
Trusting him to hold her, Skahaa swung out, horizontal, and snatched it up. Now she kept her eye on the flight of Terra's missiles, batting them away while the charioteer put distance between them. ‘I want her,’ she shrieked.
‘Can't charge archers,’ he muttered. ‘They go for the horses. Then we stop.’ Terra chased after them, taking position in the middle of the field, firing at will.
Grabbing the spear again, Skaaha leapt forwards, running along the pole to the yoke between the ponies' withers. Settling herself crouched, back foot further down the pole, face between the animals' heads, spear gripped at her side, she poised the shield to protect the ponies. ‘Lie down, and go straight for her,’ she yelled. ‘Fast!’
The chariot turned, horses urged to the gallop. They charged, the smallest target, heading towards Terra. Skaaha stopped the next arrow with her shield. Terra ran to a better position. The chariot turned towards her again, close and closing. Skaaha's shield shifted to meet the next arrow, then she raised her shoulders, aimed and threw the blunt spear. It smacked into Terra's back as she ran.
‘Ach,’ the young woman complained, raising her hands as they circled round her to a halt. ‘I should've dodged or cartwheeled.’
Skaaha leapt down, grinning, to throw her arms round the other girl. As they kissed and hugged, the charioteer walked his exhausted horses back to the stables.
‘You like Hiko?’ Terra grinned, nodding at the departing man.
‘Och, you’ – Skaaha dunted her friend – ‘can you think of nothing else?’ Certainly, she was aroused and excited by the session. Much of that was due to her developing mastery, the exhilaration of conquering speed and danger. Part of it, too, was from working in harmony, her safety secured by the considerable skills of another. But, yes, there was lust, the response to flesh, muscle and skin in close contact, the pleasure of touch. ‘He really can drive that chariot,’ she said.
‘Uh-huh,’ Terra agreed, ‘among other things.’ Chuckling, they headed for the river. ‘And we share the charioteers, without jealousy.’
Skaaha watched Hiko stripping the horses of their harness. He worked with authority. Though the distance was too great to hear his voice, she knew he spoke to the animals as he worked. His hands stroked them automatically, also speaking through touch. Men were beautiful to look at. She wondered if they knew it.
While Skaaha ducked herself in the swollen river before dressing, Terra sat on the bank, swinging her legs, chattering. An Icenian from flat southern fens, she'd leave the school when summer came to join a warrior chapter near her home. The mystery of land without rocks and mountains impressed Skaaha; she was full of questions for the strangeness of it and how anyone could find their way in it without landmarks.
Eventually, arms linked, they sauntered back to the broch.
‘What's new with you?’ Terra asked. ‘Just work?’
‘Just work.’ Skaaha shrugged, ignoring the cold fist that squeezed her gut.
‘Except tonight,’ Terra confided. ‘Wild party before Donal gets back tomorrow.’ She chuckled. ‘We've got two new students to induct.’
‘I see blood. I see blood on the beach,’ Jiya muttered. She sat cross-legged by the campfire, rocking. ‘I see the blood of men, black rock stained red. I see –’
‘Can you not shut your eyes then?’ Fion complained, turning over in the heather and drawing his bearskin tighter round his ears to keep out the cold and the noise. ‘How is a man to sleep when blood is shed on his dreams?’
‘I see blood.’ Jiya continued her chant as if he hadn't spoken. ‘I see the blood of Fion –’
‘Blessed Bride!’ Fion swore, sitting upright. It was a dark night, the quarter-moon hidden behind heavy cloud. ‘A wonder you can see anything at all in this!’ They were camped on the point of Camas Malag, where the shore of Loch Slapin approached Torrin. ‘I could be in the bed of a woman, with soft hair in my face instead of heather, and sweet words in my ears instead of –’ It was his turn to be interrupted as Thum came out of the darkness to shake the sleeping body of Vass.
‘They're showing light at Doon Grugaig,’ he said.
Vass was instantly awake. ‘What do you hear?’
‘Nothing. Even the seals sleep.’
Fion was already on his feet, urinating on the fire to douse it, before Vass and the others joined him. Now it was pitch dark, only the grey sheen of water to see by. On the shore, by their boat, Vass held them back from boarding.
‘Be still,’ he said, listening. Brochs were impenetrable once the great doors closed. If Doon Grugaig had time to get their farm folk inside, there was no rush. They'd sound the war-horn if marauders approached. The lamplight from inside the broch flickered as its thatch skylights intermittently closed and opened, a distant star on the tip of the peninsula down the opposite coast. No sound came across the water, just the gentle wash of waves.
‘Look.’ Thum nudged him. Nearer to them, another light sparked up from Doon Liath, further into the estuary. Warned by Grugaig's, their people would be in, the doors barred. But they wouldn't show their own light unless…
‘There is a boat coming up the loch,’ Vass said. ‘That's what they see.’ Torrin was the most likely destination. He glanced behind him, towards the faint flickering from the ever-burning flame of Bride. It guided pilgrims. It was also a beacon for enemies. ‘We wait,’ he said.
‘I will win.’ The new girl shook the dice in her cupped hands.
‘Not with that,’ Misha grinned as the dice clattered into the tray. The party was in full swing. Eefay and several other girls danced a reel. In the absence of druids, not due back from their own sabbaticals till morning, the charioteers provided music. Skaaha had joined them on the hand drum, inexpert with the spoon-shaped bone but growing in confidence with every mouthful from the drinking horn beside her. Food still piled on the low table. Ale and mead flowed freely.
Terra had taken charge of the gambling, determining forfeits. Whooping, she scooped up the dice. ‘If you can't beat three,’ she said, handing them to Misha, ‘we'll hang you by your heels over the hearth.’
No one was ever sure if Terra was joking or not, until the forfeit was called. Misha held her cupped hands at her ear, muttering as she shook. The dice rattled on to wood.
‘Seven,’ she yelled, clenching her fists in the air.
‘She put a spell on them,’ the new girl accused.
‘I'll put a spell on you,’ Misha retorted, ‘if you don't take that back.’
Skaaha put the drum down and squatted beside the furious warrior. ‘She only meant your luck is magical,’ she said soothingly, putting an arm round Misha's shoulders. ‘Isn't that right?’ she said, offering the new girl an out.
‘I meant she cheated,’ the newcomer said.
With a roar, Misha launched herself across the board, only to rise, floating, above her antagonist's head. Eefay, detached from the dancers, had grabbed her wrists. Skaaha, standing now, had a grip of her ankles. ‘Caledonians do not cheat!’ Misha shrieked as the two seniors walked her, suspended between them, away from the beginner. The dance music ceased. Everyone watched.
‘Nor do we kill new students,’ Eefay warned the dangling girl.
‘You owe a debt, warrior of the Brigantes,’ Terra told the newcomer.
‘Brigantians pay no forfeits,’ she retorted. ‘I am Cartimandua, heir and daughter of a queen.’
Howls of mockery rang round the room. Terra smiled, waiting for it to stop. ‘As are we all,’ she said mildly. ‘But to claim Misha cheats makes your life forfeit.’ The Brigantian objected. Misha roared to be let loose. Terra held up her hand for silence. ‘However,’ she continued, ‘her honour will be satisfied with a duel.’
‘Duel! Duel! Duel!’ the students chanted as they crowded round, eyes gleaming in the hearth light.
Skaaha glanced at Eefay, who seemed unperturbed, and set Misha's feet on the floor. Blood wasn't shed among the students, except by accident. Wars had been started for less. Terra had surely gone too far. To refuse a duel meant a humiliating loss of face. But the newcomer knew nothing of how skilled Misha was, or with what weapons, and the speed of the second-sun warrior must have been alarming.
Cartimandua's arrogance wavered. ‘You try to fool me,’ she said, ‘but I will fight’ – her haughtiness became smug – ‘when my superior commands it.’
Disappointment cooled the excitement of the watchers. Donal was absent. There were no druids. Even as keeper of the school, Eefay, as second daughter of a warrior queen, could not claim superiority. Terra considered the arrogant girl. Misha's honour required recompense, or blood would spill.
‘The Brigantes’ allegiance is to Brigit, for whom they're named,’ Terra said, ‘Brigit, whose name in these parts is Bride and whose islands lie offshore.’
‘That's why I'm here,’ Cartimandua agreed.
‘Then you'll accept the command of the goddess?’
A howl of delight rose from the students. Cartimandua was caught. Eefay whispered in Skaaha's ear. Relieved, Skaaha stepped forward, pushed the dark hair back off her neck to reveal the triquetra.
‘That would be me,’ she said.
Cartimandua's mouth gaped like that of a dead fish. Her face paled.
‘You will duel,’ Skaaha commanded, ‘with mead.’ Laughter exploded round the room.
‘Mead?’ Misha and Cartimandua repeated, almost in unison. Eefay and Terra had already filled the drinking horns.
‘Drunk horn for horn,’ Skaaha confirmed, as Cartimandua was helped to her feet. Horns were placed in both girls' hands. ‘Last one standing wins.’
The Ardvasar warriors did not wait long. Soon, a third light glimmered on the opposite shore, closer than the last – the skylights of Doon Ringell. Something came up the loch, an unknown vessel, its progress recorded by watchers on the brochs. Under silent orders, the warriors left their boat to move on foot through grass and heather to the next bay, directly in front of Torrin. Six of them, and Jiya, deployed themselves behind rocks on the shore. The other seven took up fire stations on the perimeter, where dry broom and gorse would easily catch flame. No one relished fighting in the dark.
This time, the wait unnerved. Whatever travelled up the water towards them alarmed the watch-keepers. Preparing himself to fight, Fion, already on edge from Jiya's prophecies, began to entertain notions of monsters from the deep, legend becoming life. Perhaps they faced a ship of death rowed soundlessly by restless ghosts and the impossibility of killing what could not die. A faint creak made hairs rise on his neck. Then a soft plash broke the rhythm of waves, the rhythmic dip of oars. What came towards them from the grey, dark sea was human after all. His grip tightened on the thrusting spear. They would fight shadows till the fires bloomed behind them. It was a situation none would choose. The danger from their own outweighed that of any close-knit group coming up the beach.
Wood scraped on rock. Feet splashed through shallow surf, the sound mingling with murmured voices in a foreign tongue. Fion breathed deep and steady, counting, certain the shallow-bottomed vessel had at least ten pairs of oars, twenty rowers. Nine… ten… Vass wouldn't let them all disembark before attacking.
‘Hyaaa-aaaaa!’ The war cry screamed from his commander.
‘Hyaaa-aaaaa!’ Every one of them took it up. Behind them, flints sparked.
Feet clattering down the stony beach, Fion bellowed again with his fellows. ‘Hyaaa-aaaaa!’ Alarmed shouts came from the shadowy figures, splashing back in terror to free their boat from the shallows. Fion drove his spear into the gut of the nearest enemy, yanking it out as the body crumpled. Some brave soul rushed him, the glitter of steel raised. Fion thrust again. The enemy boat was off the rocks. Oars splashed, finding water. Behind them fires flared as the dry shrubs caught light. Way to their right, the war-horn of Doon Beag, guardian of Torrin, blared into the night.
‘Hyaaa-aaaaa!’ Feet rattled over stones as the second wave of Ardvasar warriors pelted down the shore. There was nothing for them to do. The intruders' boat was out in the water. Those left behind were dead or dying on the shore. Jiya dragged one body to the nearest rock, drew her sword to take the head off it.
‘Wait.’ Fion stayed her hand. The man was still alive. A heavy torc glittered round his throat, his bloodied clothes richly dressed. ‘He might be of some use…’ A sharp pain thumped into his shoulder.
‘Shields,’ Vass roared, as a flight of javelins from the fleeing boat whistled down about their ears. Fion crumpled into Jiya's arms.
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‘Aye-yie-yaa!’ The students of Glenelg cheered. Cartimandua staggered, steadied, staggered again then collapsed against a chamber screen, sliding down it to the floor. Misha stared bleary-eyed at nothing, swaying. Skaaha took the horn of mead from the girl's hands.
‘You won, Misha,’ she said. ‘Time to sleep.’
Eefay called for broch workers to take the drunken girls and younger students back to Doon Trodden. The seniors settled to some serious play. Hiko, the charioteer, reclined beside Skaaha to watch her compete with Terra for the next forfeit. Another peat was added to the hearth. The pot-boy filled ale into horns. Roast pig and lamb were chewed over with each move. Dice rattled across the board. Boasts and witticisms, groans of despair and shrieks of delight filled the great room to the thatch. As the game neared its close, silence descended. The two competitors were neck and neck. One throw could decide the outcome. Terra passed the dice to Skaaha.
‘Can you conjure up nines?’ she taunted.
‘My magic number.’ Skaaha grinned, shaking the cubes and well-wishing four and five to appear. The dice bounced across the wood. Four and one turned over. A wish granted. Be careful what you conjure, it may come to you. Lethra's warning illustrated. The groan rose to the roof.
‘Five!’ Terra pounced. It was the number for humankind. ‘Someone's ill-wishing you,’ she rejoiced, taking her throw. ‘Ma
ybe it's me.’ Neatly, as if conspired, the three and six faces turned obligingly up. ‘Aye-yie-yaa!’ she cheered.
‘Forfeit! Forfeit!’ The chant rose. Fists thundered on the tabletop.
Skaaha braced herself. To solve the problem of Cartimandua, she'd claimed the role of goddess. Now Bride demanded her dues. Pain, humiliation, whatever endurance was asked, she would comply with good grace. Terra planked her elbow on the table. Chewing her bottom lip, she rested her chin on her palm to consider Skaaha. Lamplight glinted in her eyes.
‘You owe a debt, warrior of Danu,’ the Icenian said.
‘Name it,’ Skaaha retorted, copying Terra's pose so they were face to face. ‘I will pay.’ Terra gave forfeits in traditional triad form – a debt of three parts. She would not get off lightly.
‘You will pay the debt to Hiko.’
So that was it. That explained the twinkle in Terra's eyes. Reclining beside Skaaha, the charioteer sat upright at the mention of his name.
‘I will pay the debt to Hiko,’ Skaaha responded, ‘if he will accept it.’
Terra ignored the qualification. ‘You will pay the second honour to manhood.’ Her voice was cool and steady, face perfectly impassive.
Skaaha's heart fluttered like a heavy bird trapped in her chest. Her gut clenched. But she kept her breathing steady, let no emotion colour face or voice. A warrior feared nothing, not death, and not life. ‘I will pay the second honour to manhood.’
A howl of disbelief came from one of the young women. ‘How can pleasure be a forfeit?’ Eefay elbowed the speaker. They had all witnessed the justice Skaaha meted out to Cut-eye. Graphically, it demonstrated how he'd dishonoured masculinity. Terra intended Skaaha to overcome that by paying service to the dignity of maleness. That service, easy for others, would be difficult for her. If she failed, she would be shamed.
The charioteers shifted uneasily. Despite their value, and the high regard warriors had for them, their right to comment, interrupt or advise was limited to work. Like most men, their opinions were seldom sought at other times. But Hiko could not stay quiet.
Warrior Daughter Page 29
