by Angus Watson
The training with Ragnall had seemed like a genuine excuse. Dug had been spending every day with Spring, so it had been reasonable for her to assume that he was going to do that again. And every night in Mearhold Spring had been there in the same hut. The two nights on the road, Spring and Ragnall had been there, in the hut and now by the fire. So she shunned physical intimacy when others were around. Nothing wrong with that. He wasn’t mad on shagging in public either. Maybe, on top of that, she just wasn’t in the mood. Women were like that. Brinna had been. Sometimes she’d been up for it every day – more than once a day at the beginning – and sometimes there would be long periods of abstinence, particularly for the few moons around the birth of the girls. In fact, he himself could go for days at a time without feeling like sex. Maybe, of course, it was her time of the moon. He wasn’t squeamish about riding the red horse, but he knew some women preferred not to.
Aye, any objective observer would agree that he was being wet. If you were a lovesick young fool, Lowa’s apparent indifference might reasonably upset you. But they were adults. He and Lowa were embarking on a lasting, adult relationship. They didn’t need to shag ten times a day to prove their affection for each other. There’d be plenty of time for that once Zadar was dead.
That was another point. What he knew of Lowa’s plan to kill Zadar – Drustan’s plan – seemed plausible, but it was still terrifyingly risky, and he’d never heard how she was going to get away afterwards. With that on her mind there was little wonder she wasn’t offering herself up like a seal in season. He must, he thought, talk to her about her escape plan. Killing Zadar was a noble goal and a useful one for the land, but it wasn’t worth dying for. Nothing was worth dying for.
He felt happier. But, a nagging internal voice asked, what about Ragnall? He and Lowa did look good together. Their ages were much closer. And Ragnall had more in common with her than he did. But no. Lowa had pulled Dug, not the other way round. Like many women, she preferred older men. Ragnall was a friend, and it was good that she had friends, but he was far too young for her to find him attractive.
No, he decided, there was definitely no need to worry about anything. Besides, he’d seen her picking and eating wild carrot flowers that very evening when she’d thought nobody was watching. Wild carrot flowers stopped babies. She must be planning, he thought, to jump back on him as soon as the opportunity arose. That thought left him smiling peacefully up at the leaves above.
So he was surprised, still awake some time later, to realise that he was no longer listening to woodland groans and grunts, but to the sounds of Lowa and Ragnall having sex. He lifted his head quietly. Ragnall’s white buttocks were carefully rising and falling. Lowa’s gasps became louder and closer together until she came with a sigh. Ragnall pumped on a little longer, said, “Oof!” slowed down, stopped and rolled off.
Dug lay on his back, eyes closed. He pinched himself. He was definitely awake. Big bald badgers’ bollocks, he thought.
Chapter 2
“Where is he?” Spring came back up the hill from the stream. “I’ve been shouting for ages. He’s not down there.”
Lowa looked at the distraught girl. She had twigs and leaves in her hair. “He’s gone, Spring.”
“Gone?”
“Headed off, on his own.”
“I see. Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was you. You liked Dug then you changed to Ragnall. That’s what’s happened. You upset him and he’s gone.”
“No, Spring, we all like Dug.” Ragnall raised a hand to comfort her, but the girl twisted away, turned and stared at him. Tears poured from her eyes.
“No! You can … fuck off! Fuck off! You fucking … rat’s arse! It’s your fault he’s gone! If you’d never come he’d still be here, and we don’t need you. You can’t help kill Zadar. You can’t even build a fire.”
“I can do more than build a—”
Lowa held up a hand to silence him.
“I’m sorry, Spring,” she said. “We’ll find Dug, we really will. Don’t blame Ragnall. He’s lost Drustan, remember.”
Spring stared back at her, hatred blazing through tears and snot. “Drustan! Drustan’s a dried up old pile of seagull shit who told Zadar where we were! Who do you think sent the shout? Dug’s a hero! We need him! And now he’s gone…”
Spring fell to the ground and curled into a ball. She sobbed, then screamed, ripping at her hair and kicking her legs.
Lowa didn’t know what to do.
“I’d have thought,” said Ragnall, “she’d be too old for tantrums. On the Island of Angels—” He saw the look on Lowa’s face and stopped. She looked at Spring, who, lying on her side, was pumping her legs as if running and driving herself round in circles on the forest floor. Lowa was amazed to find moisture springing to her own eyes. She turned away. Tears were streaming now. It must, she told herself, be deferred grief from her sister and her women being killed. She’d resolved not to grieve until Zadar was dead, but this minor upset had lifted the lid.
“Stay with her. I’m going to the stream.”
Ragnall looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Stay with her.” Spring was lying face down now, shaking, moaning and bashing a fist into the earth.
Lowa ducked under a tree and walked downhill to the stream they’d all washed in the night before. Dug had made a joke about pissing upstream. It hadn’t been funny but Spring had laughed like a tickled baby.
Truth was, she felt shitty about Dug. She’d fallen for him, she really had. After she’d thought the Monster was killing him and been so relieved when he’d survived, she’d admitted to herself that she might just be in love with a man for the first ever time. She’d been so happy on Mearhold, waiting for him to recover. Then she’d gone off him. Just like that, so suddenly and completely it was impossible to remember why she’d been attracted to him in the first place. It wasn’t her fault. The speed and depth of the switch in her affections had surprised her, but she’d learned a long time ago that people were weird and she was no exception.
What was her fault was how she’d dealt with it. Dug hadn’t realised she’d gone off him and she hadn’t told him. And then he must have seen them shagging. She should have told him but had taken the coward’s path. She stopped. This was what she’d wanted. She’d wanted him to work out what was happening and to slink off. That was why she’d had sex with Ragnall by the fire the night before. She’d wanted Dug to see and leave before dawn. By Bel, she realised, that was why she’d had sex with Ragnall at all. She’d used him to be rid of Dug. Well, that wasn’t totally true, he was attractive and it was no hardship making love to him, but, she realised, her primary motive had been to upset Dug.
Was she that cold? No. It wasn’t cold. It was best for everyone. Ragnall got a shag out of it, and she’d never heard a man complain about that, and Dug was gone, good and clean, bandage ripped from the wound. There would be none of the lingering “Did she really mean it?” agonising that she’d seen cause so much trouble at the end of romances. She had, in fact, done the decent thing. And of course she didn’t need Dug for Drustan’s plan. He had been useful and now he was out of the way. It was difficult to see how it could have worked out better.
She walked along the stream a few yards to a pool. On all fours, she looked at her face in the calm water and burst into tears. This time she didn’t try to stop. She cried and cried until it was all out, then washed her face.
She had done a shitty thing to Dug. He was a good man, maybe even a great one. Spring could see it too. He didn’t know it himself, but that was part of his greatness. He could see his own failings but not his qualities. If he hadn’t been so strong, that blindness would have made him weak. It took such strength to be as kind and gentle as he was. And she’d done this to him. Massive shitting fucktwats, why had she gone off him? She shook her head and cried some more.
When she’d finished, she walked slowly back to the fire, reluctant to face Spri
ng. The girl was still lying face down, crying gently. Ragnall was sitting on a log, watching her. Lowa sat down next to the girl and pulled her into her arms. Spring resisted for a moment, then allowed herself to be hugged. Lowa rocked her.
Chapter 3
Ragnall bit his lower lip and watched Lowa sitting on the forest floor, holding the sobbing child in her arms. He felt a bit sick. He’d upset friendly old Dug and he’d betrayed Anwen. Worst of all he’d done it with magic like, very much like, the evil character in a tale. Recent events suggested that he really wasn’t the man he thought he was.
But it wasn’t his fault. One, he hadn’t meant to. He really had not expected his spell, or whatever it was, to work. Two, it wasn’t as if Lowa and Dug were gods-destined lovers. He was some older fellow she’d shagged a couple of times, probably just for something to do in the evenings. And a spell? Really? He was still deeply unsure about Drustan’s fire-lighting feat. It really could have been a trick. He’d heard that people’s principles slipped in times of strife, so wasn’t that more likely?
Whatever it was, it had been worth it. He thought of the feel of Lowa’s skin and her smell, and he smiled. As he did so, he caught Spring’s eye. She had stopped crying and was staring at him with the sort of look that a cat might give someone who’s just thrown water over it and laughed. He turned away.
Chapter 4
Dug stopped for the hundredth time and turned back. He’d imagined it. He must have imagined it. Lowa wouldn’t do that, would she? She had. He hadn’t imagined it. Those heaving buttocks were seared onto his brain for ever. Heaving boy buttocks on the girl that he loved. He chuckled. It was quite funny when you thought about it, he told himself. He turned and carried on towards Forkton.
Yeah, hilarious, he thought a few paces later. So very funny that he was heading for the nearest town to find the nearest inn and drink until rational thought troubled him no longer.
But there, up ahead on the road, coming towards him, surely that was Lowa? Definitely. Her height and her hair, if she’d tied it back. But how had she got there? No. No, he realised as the walker approached. In fact it was a boy of about fourteen, a bit taller than Lowa. And skinnier. With mid-length black hair and a twisted bronze torc around his neck that Lowa would never have worn. It was the third time that morning he’d thought he’d seen Lowa. He’d passed three people.
“Good morning!” said the boy.
“That, it is not,” said Dug without breaking stride.
He stopped again. This was crazy. He’d banged a girl half his age. What had he expected? This wasn’t twenty years ago. Twenty years ago people had principles about sex. It was different now. He should stop being so wet and head back. Maybe he’d get to shag her again once she’d tired of Ragnall. He started back towards the camp. She clearly wasn’t too worried about who … But how could she? Right there, not more than three paces away? He turned again to Forkton, walking faster than before. He’d thought that he’d found a new Brinna. That he’d have new Kelsies and Terrys. He’d been a fool. He could feel Brinna and the girls watching him from the Otherworld, shaking their heads with disappointment. He’d betrayed them and made a fool of himself. His head throbbed, hot with shame and anger.
But no, it didn’t matter. How could it matter? He was back where he was half a moon before, on his way to join Zadar’s army with a quick stop to get pissed on the way. He’d have to steer clear of Weylin when he got to Maidun, but it was a big army, and if their paths crossed he’d just pretend to be someone else. He’d cut his beard off, perhaps.
Then he remembered Spring. He didn’t want to leave her. He’d go back for her. And maybe find Ragnall gone and Lowa waiting for him … But he was nearly at Forkton now, so he’d just pop in for a quick afternoon’s drinking – he owed himself that – then catch them up, get Spring, and go on to Maidun with her. He’d tell everyone that she was his daughter and let her call him dad.
Up ahead four men on horseback were leading a few trios of neck-shackled slaves towards him. But it wasn’t four men on horseback. One was a woman. It was Lowa, wasn’t it? But how could she…? No, no, hang on. It was a bloke after all.
Chapter 5
Elliax Goldan’s stomach was eating him from the inside. He was hungry. Starving. No, not starving, not really. Starving meant not eating at all, and he’d been eating enough to stay alive. Always meat. Vasin meat. He hadn’t seen her for a while and he liked to pretend it was horse meat that he was eating. But he knew it was wife meat. He wondered which bit it was? Nothing too serious, he hoped.
He’d asked, he’d demanded to see her, but he’d been glad when they said he couldn’t. He couldn’t face those accusing eyes. But he’d only eaten what he really had to, to stay alive. Surely she’d understand? And it wasn’t like she couldn’t afford to lose some blubber. If they were feeding him her arse, well, he was doing her a favour. It couldn’t be easy lugging that great big double ball of fat around the place.
And she’d forgive him when Zadar let them go and gave him his new position.
He’d decided that Zadar was going to make him chief quartermaster but was testing his loyalty and resolve first. Why else would he have brought someone of his skills back to Maidun? Why else would he have put him here, chained to railings at the side of his open-air court, if not so that he could see how things worked in preparation for joining in? Yes, soon they’d replace his leg irons with gold chains around his neck and give him a good hut, and he’d be quartermaster. And it wouldn’t be long before he had the same arrangement as before. A payment overlooked here, a miscount there, followed by a plump young daughter delivered to his hut. With these happy thoughts he nodded into sleep.
He was woken by voices. Zadar was back on his throne across the courtyard. There was Felix, standing before him rather than sitting next to him as usual. The only other person around was an elderly man with a long beard and curly white hair next to Felix. The old man looked decrepit, leaning on a man-high staff bound with cloth at each end.
“…not so much a reward for me, as a benefit to you and Maidun and Britain,” the old man was saying. “A druid school based here, administered by me, will soon surpass the Island of Angels. It will protect British culture while embracing Rome’s.”
Zadar looked at the druid, dead-eyed. Elliax shivered. “My druid has powers that will never be matched by you or any other druid that you train. Why would I need your school?”
If the old man was frightened, he didn’t show it. “Outside Maidun’s influence, where people have not yet learned to fear you, it is druids like me who hold sway. Ignorant, fearful masses listen to us because they think we talk for the gods.”
Zadar nodded slowly. “And?”
“You want to rule the entire British island, united as it has not been for centuries. Nominally, it will be as part of the empire of Rome. In fact, you want power for yourself and intend to use the Romans’ martial, logistical and administrative abilities to achieve it.”
Zadar stroked his chin. These were brave words from the old man. Elliax had seen Zadar kill for less.
“Go on…” said the king in the same voice a child-killer might use to ask his prey to walk further into the forest.
“A druid school will provide you with a peaceful force to soften resistance before your armies advance, like dogs weakening a bear in your arena before a gladiator kills it.”
“If I don’t want a druid school in return for your information, what’s to stop me torturing you to obtain it?”
The old man thought, standing in silence for much longer than Elliax would have dared. “Two reasons. First, I have seen how much you want to capture this woman. You want to be certain that the information I give you about her is correct. Promise what I want and keep me close, and you can be surer of veracity than if you were to torture me. Tortured men say what they need to say to make the pain stop. Second, the druid school will be useful.”
“Pain is only one form of torture.” Zadar nodded towards Elliax.
The old man looked over, seeing him for first time. Elliax smiled at him.
“What are you doing to this wretch?”
“He is a toy.”
“An educational toy,” added Felix. “We are feeding his wife to him, piece by piece.”
“So he becomes his wife.” The old man seemed interested, not surprised or disturbed.
“Precisely.”
“Interesting. The school would run experiments like this if it pleases you, King Zadar.”
“It pleases me.”
“So you accept my proposal.”
“I’ll try it. Now tell me what you know.”
“There is one more condition.” The old man dared.
Zadar looked at Felix, eyebrows raised.
Oh, this was pushing it too far. Elliax rubbed his hands in anticipation. Nobody gave Zadar conditions.
“Lowa Flynn may have a young man with her, a former pupil of mine. He should remain unharmed.”
“You may have the young man,” said Zadar. “Now. Tell me what you know about Flynn.”
Chapter 6
