by Jayne Castel
Table of Contents
Maps of The Winged Isle
Background notes for BLOOD FEUD
Prologue
Broken
Chapter One
Sacrifice for Peace
Chapter Two
Rage
Chapter Three
The Gathering at the Pools
Chapter Four
The Potion
Chapter Five
Handfasted
Chapter Six
A Stormy Night
Chapter Seven
The Cold Light of Day
Chapter Eight
The Journey South
Chapter Nine
Opposite Sides of the Fire
Chapter Ten
The Mark of The Eagle
Chapter Eleven
In Search of Answers
Chapter Twelve
The Campaign
Chapter Thirteen
Gateway
Chapter Fourteen
Between Man and Wife
Chapter Fifteen
The Red Hill
Chapter Sixteen
The Birth
Chapter Seventeen
Lament for Luana
Chapter Eighteen
Donnel’s Departure
Chapter Nineteen
Collecting Drualus
Chapter Twenty
Mid-Winter Fire
Chapter Twenty-one
No Other Woman
Chapter Twenty-two
Raiders
Chapter Twenty-three
Peace Breaker
BLOOD FEUD
A Scottish Dark Ages Romance
The Warrior Brothers of Skye
Book One
JAYNE CASTEL
Your free starter library is waiting! Join me in 7th Century Anglo-Saxon England and receive a 30,000-word historical romance novella and two full-length novels. Immerse yourself in the Dark Ages!
Historical Romances by Jayne Castel
DARK AGES BRITAIN
The Kingdom of the East Angles series
Night Shadows (prequel novella)
Dark Under the Cover of Night (Book One)
Nightfall till Daybreak (Book Two)
The Deepening Night (Book Three)
The Kingdom of the East Angles: The Complete Series
The Kingdom of Mercia series
The Breaking Dawn (Book One)
Darkest before Dawn (Book Two)
Dawn of Wolves (Book Three)
The Kingdom of Northumbria series
The Whispering Wind (Book One)
DARK AGES SCOTLAND
The Warrior Brothers of Skye series
Blood Feud (Book One)
All characters and situations in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
Blood Feud by Jayne Castel
Copyright © 2017 by Jayne Castel. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the author.
Edited by Tim Burton
Cover photography courtesy of www.shutterstock.com
Eagle image courtesy of www.pixabay.com
Map of Scotland and the Isle of Skye courtesy of Wikipedia
Map ‘The Winged Isle’ by Jayne Castel
Visit Jayne’s website and blog: www.jaynecastel.com
Follow Jayne on Twitter: @JayneCastel
***
For Tim—my lover, my editor, and my best friend.
***
Far north of Hadrian’s Wall—beyond the shadow of the Roman Empire—the daughter of a Pictish chieftain prepares to wed her enemy.
Dark Ages Scotland, the Isle of Skye. To forge peace, Tea must marry the leader of a neighboring tribe that killed her father.
Dark and brooding—Galan isn’t what Tea expects. Unlike her, he’s determined to end decades of bloodshed between two warring tribes, even if it means sacrificing his own happiness.
Tea isn’t what Galan expects either. A statuesque, embittered beauty, she hates him and his people. Together, Galan and Tea have the chance to forge a new future—one that will ensure lasting peace—if only they can only let go of the past.
Can their love overcome generations of hate?
Contents
Maps of The Winged Isle
Background notes for BLOOD FEUD
Prologue
Broken
Chapter One
Sacrifice for Peace
Chapter Two
Rage
Chapter Three
The Gathering at the Pools
Chapter Four
The Potion
Chapter Five
Handfasted
Chapter Six
A Stormy Night
Chapter Seven
The Cold Light of Day
Chapter Eight
The Journey South
Chapter Nine
Opposite Sides of the Fire
Chapter Ten
The Mark of The Eagle
Chapter Eleven
In Search of Answers
Chapter Twelve
The Campaign
Chapter Thirteen
Gateway
Chapter Fourteen
Between Man and Wife
Chapter Fifteen
The Red Hill
Chapter Sixteen
The Birth
Chapter Seventeen
Lament for Luana
Chapter Eighteen
Donnel’s Departure
Chapter Nineteen
Collecting Drualus
Chapter Twenty
Mid-Winter Fire
Chapter Twenty-one
No Other Woman
Chapter Twenty-two
Raiders
Chapter Twenty-three
Peace Breaker
Chapter Twenty-four
Too Late
Chapter Twenty-five
Homecoming
Chapter Twenty-six
Lies
Chapter Twenty-seven
The Secret
Chapter Twenty-eight
Upon the Wall
Chapter Twenty-nine
Farewell to Loc
Chapter Thirty
Final Words
Chapter Thirty-one
Absence
Chapter Thirty-two
You Must Go to Him
Chapter Thirty-three
The Return
Chapter Thirty-four
Courage
Epilogue
Honeyed Oat Cakes
Historical Note
Acknowledgements
More works by Jayne Castel
About the Author
Maps of The Winged Isle
Background notes for BLOOD FEUD
Glossary
All-Heal: old name for Valerian root
Aos Sí or Fair Folk: fairies
bandruí: a female druid or seer
Broch: a tall, round, stone-built, hollow-walled Iron Age tower-house
Caesars: the Ancient Romans
Cruthini: the name the mainland Picts gave to themselves
drualus: mistletoe
The Land of the Cruthini: Pictland
Place names
An t-Eilean Sgitheanach: Gaelic name for the Isle of Skye
Beinn na Caillich: the Red Hill of Skye
Black Cuillins: mountains in the west o
f the Isle of Skye
Dun Ardtreck: a broch located on the Minginish peninsula of Skye.
Dun Ringill: an Iron Age hill fort on the Strathaird peninsula of Skye
Dun Skudiburgh: a fort on the north-east of Skye
Kyleakin: a village on the south-east edge of Skye
River Brittle: the river beneath the Fairy Pools
The Lochans of the Fair Folk: the Fairy Pools
The four tribes of The Winged Isle*
The People of The Eagle (south-west)
The People of The Wolf (north-west)
The People of The Boar (south-east)
The People of The Stag (north-east)
Gods and Goddesses of The Winged Isle*
The Mother: Goddess of enlightenment and feminine energy—the bringer of change
The Warrior: God of battle, life and growth, of summer
The Maiden: Young goddess of nature and fertility
The Hag: Goddess of the dark—sleep, dreams, death, winter, and the earth
The Reaper: God of death.
Festivities on the Isle of Skye*
Earth Fire: Salute to new life and the first signs of spring (February 1)
Bealtunn: Spring Equinox
Mid-Summer Fire: Summer Equinox
Harvest Fire: Festival to salute the harvest (Aug 1)
Gateway: Passage from summer to winter (October 31/November 1)
Mid-Winter Fire: Winter Equinox
* Author’s note: I have taken ‘artistic license’ when it comes to the names of the tribes, festivities and gods and goddesses upon the Isle of Skye. The historical evidence is very scant, making it a challenge for me to get an accurate picture of what the names of the tribes living upon Skye during the 4th century would have been. Likewise, I could not find any references to their gods and festivities. The Picts were an enigmatic people and we only have their ruins and symbols to cast light on how they lived and who they worshipped. To make my setting as authentic as possible, I have studied the rituals and religions of the Celtic peoples of Scotland, Ireland and Wales of a similar period and have created a culture I feel could have existed.
Cast of characters (in alphabetical order)
Alia: midwife at Dun Ringill
Cal, Namet, Lutrin and Ru: Galan’s four most trusted warriors
Deri: young woman married to Cal, one of Galan’s warriors
Domech mac Bred: Wolf Chieftain, Tea’s father (deceased)
Donnel mac Muin: youngest son of the Eagle chieftain
Eithni: Tea and Loc’s younger sister
Fina: Tea’s mother (deceased)
Forcus mac Vist: Wolf warrior, Tea’s ex-lover.
Galaith: Galan’s mother (deceased)
Galan mac Muin: eldest son of the Eagle chieftain
Loc mac Domach: Tea’s brother, and new Wolf chieftain
Luana: Donnel’s wife
Mael: Luana’s sister (married to Maphan)
Muin mac Uerd: Eagle chieftain, Galan’s father (deceased)
Ruith: the seer at Dun Ringill
Talor: Luana and Donnel’s infant son
Tarl mac Muin: middle son of the Eagle chieftain
Tea: (pronounced Teeya) the daughter of the Wolf chieftain
Wid: Tea’s cousin
While seeking revenge, dig two graves—one for yourself.
Douglas Horton
Prologue
Broken
Late summer, 366 AD—the Isle of Skye
The fort of Dun Ardtreck
Tea stood high on the walls of Dun Ardtreck and watched the men bring her father’s body home from battle.
Her brother wept as he led the shaggy pony pulling a litter up the incline. The other warriors trailed behind Loc and his pony, many of them limping or cradling injured limbs. From her vantage point, atop the stacked-stone wall, Tea could not see the face of the corpse upon the litter, but she knew it could only be her father. She had not seen her brother weep since they were children. Ice-cold dread slithered down her spine.
“Father,” she whispered, her voice catching in her throat.
She did not want to believe it.
Domech mac Bred was a true warrior of An t-Eilean Sgitheanach—The Winged Isle that lay just beyond the edge of the mainland. He had been destined to die protecting the island from invaders, not in some bloody skirmish with the Eagles of Dun Ringill.
Shock chilled Tea to the core and for a moment she forgot to breathe.
Then she swept her heavy fur cloak close and descended the stairs from the high wall. Her leather foot coverings scraped on rough stone as she flew down the steps and sprinted toward the gates of Dun Ardtreck.
Behind her rose a great, stone broch—a round tower house made of stone—and beyond that a sheer rock face rose higher still. Shaped like an enormous beehive, Dun Ardtreck perched upon a rocky knoll, on the edge of a cliff, smoke snaking from two slits in its great roof.
To the west, the waters of Loch Bracadale glittered in the late afternoon sun and a chill breeze blew in, a sharp reminder that summer was ending and Harvest Fire was on its way. To the north lay the mouth of Loch Harport and the naked brown crags of the headland beyond. Loch Harport itself stretched east, cutting inland in a long finger and forming the Minginish Peninsula where Tea’s people ruled.
Breathing hard, Tea reached a dry stone wall and passed through a wide archway. There, she waited at the entrance to the cleft between two rocks—the only entrance to the fort—for her father’s party to arrive.
Loc had wiped the tears from his face by the time he emerged before the gates. Tall and dark, like Tea, her brother walked as if he carried a great weight upon his shoulders. He was limping and leaned against his pony for support. Blood encrusted his right leg and he bore a nasty gash to his left shoulder.
His cousin, Wid, a burly young man with long black hair, walked a few paces behind Loc. Barely out of boyhood, Wid looked badly shaken. His youthful face, with just a fuzz of dark beard starting to grow on his chin, was ashen beneath a layer of grime and blood.
The procession inched closer, and then Loc was standing before her.
“Tea.” Her brother’s gaze met hers. They had the same colored eyes—those of their dead mother—deep midnight blue. His red-rimmed eyes and swollen face told the story Tea had been dreading to hear. “Father fell.”
She stared at him, horror rendering her speechless. Stiffly, as if she was sleep-walking, she stepped around him and stopped before the litter.
Domech son of Bred, chieftain of her people, lay there—as dead, grey and cold as stone. Blood was splattered across his pale face, from the slash wound across his throat.
“Who did this?” she finally croaked.
“Their chief, Muin,” Loc replied, his own voice rough with grief, “but not before father delivered a fatal blow to his belly.”
Forcus, a warrior with curly brown hair and pale blue eyes, stepped up beside Loc. The man’s gaze met Tea’s, direct and bold as usual. A year earlier, she and Forcus had briefly been lovers. Although their union had ended, the pair had remained close ever since.
“Muin died screaming,” Forcus informed her. “Domech made him suffer before the end.”
Tea stared at him, barely able to take the words in. Then she looked down at her father’s face. Even in death he looked formidable; a warrior to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.
Her gaze shifted away from her father to the last stragglers as they limped their way into the fort. The other warriors walked by them. Bloodied and beaten, they were a sorry sight. “So few have returned,” she whispered.
“It was an ambush,” Forcus told her, his voice flint-hard. “They were waiting for us.”
Tea stepped back from the chieftain’s corpse, her attention shifting to her brother. Such was her shock at seeing her father dead that she had barely noticed Loc’s injuries.
“You’re hurt.” She stepped toward him, her gaze shifting from the blood-soaked leg of his plaid breeches to th
e deep laceration on his shoulder. “Eithni needs to tend your wounds.”
Loc shook his head, brushing off her concern. He did not want a fuss made of him, not when their father lay dead just a few feet away. However, speaking of their sister made Tea’s belly twist.
Eithni would be broken by the news—and it would fall upon Tea to tell her.
Tea brushed out her father’s long, dark hair, and marveled at how little grey he had in it. At forty three winters, he still looked to be in the prime of life.
She and Eithni stood in an alcove within the broch, where they were preparing Domech mac Bred for his burial. Beside Tea, Eithni wept as she painted curling blue designs over her father’s chest. He bore a number of tattoos, including a wolf’s head on his right arm, but many of them had faded with age—the paint brought them back to life.
Tea blinked back tears of her own and slid silver and gold rings studded with amber onto her father’s fingers. They had dressed him in his finest clothes, including a long robe that reached his ankles. The robe was trimmed with a fur collar and hemmed in gold.
Tea inhaled deeply and scrubbed at the tears that trickled down her cheeks. Stay strong. Grief sat like a boulder in her chest but she would not succumb to it.
Eithni drew back from her father and put aside her brush and clay pot of woad paint. Her face was wet, her eyes swollen—yet Eithni’s grief had not prevented her from carrying out her duties.
Silently, the sisters now made the final touches to their father’s appearance. Tea placed Domech’s iron sword, which he had carried through so many battles, upon his chest, and folded his hands across its bronze pommel. His wooden shield, covered with leather and stained with the mark of The Wolf, she lay across his legs.
Their father would go to meet The Mother looking his finest.
