by Mia Pride
Both men nodded. “Aye, we share the same enemy and the same goals. We need to get on with our plans,” Mack said.
“Only you two know where the ship full of cargo is, as well as how to locate Caleb.”
Bryant waved them off and snorted. “Caleb will not be hard to find. He looks much like yourself, only with slightly lighter hair and slightly less green eyes. In fact… now that I think on it, you both look eerily alike…”
“So I have been told,” Brennain grumbled. Had not Kelvyn said the exact same thing? Is that why Morna married the man? Was he a decent replacement for Brennain? That thought only made him angry. He did not like being replaced with anyone where Morna was concerned, especially when the man was a selfish whoreson.
“More than likely ye will find the man with a woman on his lap at the brothel and too much ale or wine in his blood,” Mack spat.
Mack had just used words Brennain did not understand. “What is wine? What is a brothel?” Brennain furrowed his brow.
“Wine is what the Rómánach warriors prefer to drink, similar to our mead but made with grapes and they import it from their own lands. I have not been allowed to taste it, as it is not allowed to most of Mal’s men, but Caleb has found his way into the good graces of the Rómánach. The man can fool anyone with his cursed charm, it seems. A brothel is a place men go to buy women’s entertainment for the night.”
“Excuse me?” Reaghan asked. “What is ‘buy’ and how does one buy a woman’s entertainment?” The look on Reaghan’s face nearly made Brennain laugh out loud, though he also could not fathom the concept.
“They use their gold coins in trade, rather than sheep or cattle, as we do. Give a woman at a brothel a coin and no telling what tricks she will pull for ye, lads. The Rómánach do have some interesting traditions, including the public baths.”
Public baths? Giving women gold in exchange for pleasure? Never had Brennain once had to bribe a woman to share his bed, and nor would he ever. It sounded ridiculous. Did these Rómánach men have such wee cocks that they had to ‘buy’ a woman for a night? And Brennain did not bother to ask what grapes were, either. He supposed Bryant and Mack would have to tell him more of what they discovered within the walls of Barochan Hill another day. For now, he wanted to be away from the dead men at his feet and be done with their task, so he could leave this place. Although he could not deny that he was very curious what it looked like inside the walls of this foreign fort. But going inside would be dangerous if he ran into Mal.
Bryant looked at the dead men and then at Reaghan and Brennain. “Ye two go into the fort. We will prepare some torches and meet ye at the shore. We will also procure a cart. It will make our return with Caleb much easier.”
A cart was a good plan and he was more than glad that Mack and Bryant knew where to find these things and hoped they could do so. They would need to attach the horses to the cart, as well. He could not return to Miathi without their borrowed horses.
“How do you expect us to walk into Barochan Hill dressed like this?” Reaghan asked incredulously. “Remember, Mal knows our faces, as do many of his men.”
A wide grin spread across Bryant’s face, his dark eyes twinkling. “Ye will not. Ye will walk into Barochan Hill dressed like a Rómánach.” He looked down at the dead men, then back up at Brennain and Reaghan. “Nobody will question ye. There are far too many men coming and going from this fort and it has only been here less than a year. The leader of the invasion is constantly having new men arrive from across the sea. Mal’s men do not mingle with the Rómánach as they barely speak the same language and do not wish to share their fine foods and wine with the natives… even if they are plotting an invasion together.”
Brennain looked at the men on the cold forest floor, then up at his companion with a raised brow. “What say you, mate? Think we can manage to infiltrate a Rómánach fort?”
Reaghan snorted and shrugged. “I suppose we will find out. What can possibly go wrong?”
Chapter Five
Even with the night now completely dark and thick clouds hiding the moon, standing so close to the ramparts of the fort, Brennain could clearly make out the sharp wooden spikes driven into the ground all around, serving to keep enemies from climbing over. Four guards stood watch at the entrance of the fort and he felt like a fool wearing these strange clothes and another man’s weapon. Reaghan and Brennain had left their clothes and weapons with Bryant and Mack, so he hoped the men were true to their word and would be awaiting them by the ship once they located Caleb.
The heavy iron helm of his enemy was tucked neatly under his arm, as was Reaghan’s. He did not know the ways of these people, but he had to assume they did not walk around with their heads in helms at night. He could only pray Mack had been correct and Mal would not be anywhere near where Caleb would be.
“Are you ready?” he whispered to Reaghan, who simply nodded and adjusted his iron chest plate that was clearly made for a smaller man. Brennain had to admit it felt heavy and cumbersome. He understood the logic behind covering one’s chest for battle, but he could not help but feel his movements would be stilted if he fought in something so constrictive.
As they approached the four guards, Brennain kept his features neutral and made eye contact with the guard near him. One thing he had learned in all his missions was that nothing showed deception or guilt like a man who refused to make eye contact or smiled more than necessary. The guard murmured something in his own language and Brennain simply nodded his head in acknowledgment and continued through. His heart beat wildly in his chest as they slowly walked straight into the camp of their enemy. In truth, he was not so certain if the Rómánach were their enemy or not, but they did harbor Mal Mac Rochride and conspired to help the man onto the High Throne of Ériu. That made them an enemy whether they knew it or not.
Reaghan strode slightly behind him and he felt himself grow calmer as they walked further into the fort. If they had so easily passed the guards, he suspected this would be easy enough from here on out… until they set a ship on fire and had to get out without being caught or followed.
The road leading up to the fort had been paved in a way Brennain had never seen and he was struck by how well this small fort was made considering its new and temporary status. Solid stone rectangular buildings with timber roofs surrounded them on either side. He had expected tents or simple wattle and daub homes with thatched roofs, but nay, these were built to last and would stand for years.
Laughter rang in the air and foreign words drifted to his ears. “We will need to lie low, Reaghan. If anyone attempts to speak with us, we will be found out.”
“Aye. I cannot believe how easily we made it past the guards. This place is unlike anything I have ever seen.”
Brennain had to agree, still, he elbowed Reaghan. “Try not to look so impressed, mate. You are a Rómánach. These buildings and roads are normal for you.”
“Aye. Right.” Reaghan nodded and closed his gaping mouth. “Let us find this… brothel, aye? I cannot say I am not intrigued.”
“I cannot say I am impressed. What man needs to buy pleasure from a woman?” Brennain scoffed as they continued walking down the paved street, trying his best not to gawk at the large, sturdy gray-stone buildings. Torches were set against the stone walls, illuminating the road before them. Men milled about here and there, but not as many as he would have found if they were in a typical village in Ériu. Standing around a fire and sharing stories while drinking ale was a well respected pastime, as were warrior games of strength and chasing the skirts of lassies. Although, if a man could simply give a lass a coin and have her willingly lift her skirt, he supposed most men would be doing the same as the men at this fort. He preferred the chase. It was half the fun of the conquest… at least it had been until he met Morna.
“Not every man can have any lass willing to fall into his bed like you, Brennain,” Reaghan said sarcastically.
“From what I have seen, you do not share that issue either,
mate.”
“Aye. I suppose we are the fortunate ones. Let us find the less fortunate who must ‘pay’ to have a lass ride his cock.” Brennain scoffed at that but continued to walk around in silence. No man had yet approached them, and he supposed that was just as well.
There was a large outdoor oven to his right with pottery stacked all around and he knew that must be like the kilns they used at home. To his left, he saw rectangular buildings on stilts and wondered if that was their granaries. He heard the bleat of sheep and the snort of horses and knew stables and byres must be around the corner, just out of sight. Brennain wondered if Mack and Bryant would be successful in finding a cart. If not, getting Caleb home would be a true task. First, they had to find the bastard.
A group of men in tunics with red cloth draped over their shoulders walked by. They wore trousers similar to what the locals wore, given the climate was almost always cold despite the season. The men carried large clay jugs and laughed in their strange language, clearly having over imbibed already. One man pointed at Reaghan and said something that made the other men laugh. All Reaghan could do was laugh along with the man and brace himself when they came up and slung an arm around him, murmuring nonsense into his ear. The only word that Brennain could make out was “etiam,” which the man repeated over and over. Still laughing, Reaghan played along and nodded, repeating the strange word to the man until he finally released Reaghan and pointed to a large rectangular building straight ahead. It looked much like all the other buildings and Brennain wondered why the man was pointing at it, but he nodded and smiled, pulling Reaghan away as the group of intoxicated foreigners wandered off.
“These men do not seem so bad, do they?” Reaghan asked with a laugh.
“Most men are not, until you must face them on the field of battle before they try to take your land, rape your women, and slaughter your children.”
That made Reaghan stiffen up and stop laughing, understanding all that was at stake. “Right,” he murmured.
As they approached the building, Brennain’s brows rose so high he wondered if they reached his hairline. “I think we found the brothel.”
“Why do you say that?” Pointing to a painting on the wall of the building, Brennain grunted with amusement and elbowed Reaghan. “Oh. I see.” Reaghan tilted his head to the left, then to the right, trying to look at the crude image from every angle.
“Can a woman bend in that position?” Reaghan asked, tilting his head to the left once more as he took in the erotic painting of a woman entangled with a man. Upon further inspection, he saw a row of similar images with women in different positions with men and markings above each painting.
“If you have not met a woman who can do that, I would be more than happy to introduce you to several upon our arrival home,” Brennain laughed.
“You are not serious?”
“Och. I am. None of these are anything new to me, mate. Come, let us go in and see if we can find the bastard who abandoned Morna within these walls.” He stepped inside the building, surprised that the door was already partially open. Instantly, his senses were assaulted by the smoke of dim candles, the sounds of grunting men and moaning women, and the scent of lust drifting in the air. Sheer red fabric hung from the ceilings and seemed to be the only barriers between the mostly occupied beds.
“What, by all the bloody gods, have we just stepped into?” Reaghan asked with a quirked brow. Their gazes first landed on a naked woman on her knees, her head bobbing back and forth as the man tilted his head back and groaned. “What I would not give for one cursed gold coin right now,” Reaghan whispered in Brennain’s ear.
Brennain tried to look away, but no matter where his gaze landed, he saw naked flesh and writhing bodies. One woman had her legs spread wide as a man feasted on her woman’s flesh, her ample breasts hung freely. Brennain could not help but envy the man. What he would not give to taste of a woman, but the only woman he wished to taste was Morna, and the only whoreson who had that right was supposedly somewhere in this room, enjoying a woman he had to pay for pleasure.
That thought had Brennain’s blood boiling once more. If he was married to Morna, no force on earth would pull him away. An image of Morna naked and spread before him clouded his mind and he felt himself growing stiff. He had never had the pleasure of disrobing her or seeing her bared to his gaze, but he knew it would be a wondrous sight. Being in this room, filled with the sounds and scents of pleasure, was not helping his wandering thoughts. He looked away from the woman who was thoroughly enjoying herself and moved on to the next bed. He needed to get out of this place before he lost his mind. He would never pay a woman to share his bed, but being in this room full of naked people was doing strange things to him. His mind was repulsed but his body, based on the growing bulge under his tunic, was clearly intrigued.
An entirely naked woman with dark curly hair, wide curving hips, and large breasts sauntered up to him and Reaghan, giving them a look of interest and waving them over to the bed. Both men shook their heads no and turned away. They had no way to tell her that they had no coin, and he did not wish for her to figure out that they did not speak her language. Looking mildly insulted, she shrugged and sauntered away, her round arse swaying with every step. Reaghan groaned and bit his knuckles as he watched the woman and Brennain knew they needed to get out of there.
So far, none of the men he had seen looked at all like the man who had been described to him more than once. One man had black hair and another had no hair at all. Neither looked like the sort of men women fell over.
In the next bed to his right, he saw a woman whose back was to him, dispassionately bouncing up and down on a man who seemed to be causing her to groan in pain more than pleasure. The man’s fingers dug into the woman’s backside and her long red hair hung down her back. The man moved one hand to her hair and pulled hard, causing her to cry out and Brennain knew for certain it was a cry of pain. Paying or not, Brennain could not a stand a man who would hurt a woman who appeared to be so unwilling based on her rigid back and choppy movements.
“Faster, you whore,” the man grunted. Brennain froze in place and looked at Reaghan. The man had spoken their language. Reaghan nodded, indicating he had heard it, as well.
“I am not a whore,” the lass whimpered. “I just want to go home.”
She spoke their language, as well. Her red waves should have told Brennain that she was a native.
“You are one now, lass. Make the best of it.” The man shoved her off his lap. “Get on your knees.”
Once the woman was on the floor and scrambling clumsily onto her feet, Brennain could see the man entirely… much more than he would have ever wanted. Dark brown hair, light green eyes, square jaw and strong build… and a man who spoke his language.
“Caleb!” Reaghan shouted at the man, whose gaze snapped up immediately at his name.
“Who are you?” the man snarled. “Can you not see I am busy?” Then his brow crinkled as he regarded them both. “I do not know you.”
“You do not need to.” Brennain strode over to the man and found a pair of trousers. “Put these on now.” He threw the garment at the man, hitting him in the face with them.
“I am not done with Marcella,” Caleb protested. “Wait… you speak my language, yet you are dressed as a Rómánach…”
“Unless you wish to be dragged through the street naked, I suggest you get dressed. Nobody will balk at you being dragged out by two Rómánach warriors, aye?” Brennain whispered. They both knew he was right. If they forced him away, nobody would care.
“Wait. I know you.” Caleb narrowed his eyes and pointed at Brennain. “You are that warrior from Ériu… you visited Miathi two years back… you quite liked Morna—”
Brennain dragged the man up to his feet and resisted the urge to wail on his face until he was not recognizable by his own mother. “Do not say her name in my presence. You do not deserve to even know her,” Brennain growled through clenched teeth. From the corner of his eye
, he saw the woman, Marcella getting up to her feet as Reaghan grabbed a random long tunic from the floor and slipped it over her body. She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered as her gaze darted between the men.
Caleb drew his trousers on swiftly and allowed himself to be dragged out silently. Nobody seemed to even notice, as occupied as they were.
“Take me with you,” he heard a soft, imploring voice behind him. “Please.” Turning around, he saw the wee red-haired lass clutching tightly to Reaghan’s arm. Without a word, Reaghan nodded and pulled her closer, protecting her with his own body.
“What is this all about? Why are you here? Have you come to join Mal’s forces?”
A grin spread across Brennain’s face as he nodded. “Och, aye. That I am. Is he here at camp?”
“Aye, he is, but he is just outside the walls to the east. His men are not allowed into the fort. Only a few of us have been invited.”
“I see. Do you know which way the sea is?”
Caleb’s brow furrowed once more, but he pointed to the west. “Over there. Why?”
Roughly, Brennain gripped Caleb by the neck and guided him in that direction. Reaghan walked quickly with Marcella next to him. Another group of men walked past and slowed their steps, eyeing them suspiciously, but then continued on. She was a paid woman and Caleb was an outsider. Brennain held his breath and prayed the other men would assume he and Reaghan were handling a situation privately.
“Where are you taking me?” Caleb fought to get out of Brennain’s grip. “I do not even have my tunic!”
Brennain chortled. “Whose fault is that?”
“You are not here to join Mal, are you?”
“Och, clever one, he is,” Reaghan snorted, and pulled Marcella closer. She seemed so desperate for protection that she was willing to trust strange men to help her. That made Brennain’s stomach plummet. What horrors had she seen to put her life into the hands of random men? She was fortunate, for neither of them would ever hurt her, but she had no way of knowing that.
