Daughter of Albion

by Ilka Tampke

  I set my broom down, surprised. ‘She’s not let me walk for weeks. How did you gain it?’

  ‘As I always gain what I wish.’

  I shoved his thigh with the broom end for his arrogance.

  We walked through field lanes to Sister Hill, talking all the way. There was no danger of silence with Ruther. He regaled me with tales of mishaps from his travels. How Uaine’s horse, weary with heat, and with full packs upon it, mud-rolled to cool itself in a bog and Uaine had to ride naked for a day while his tunic dried. How, lighting candles in their Roman guesthouse, their man attendant set his beard alight and had to douse it with the pisspot.

  I laughed freely and it was easy between us, despite his long absence, despite another’s claim of my heart.

  As we climbed the slope our conversation quieted and I was sure he was remembering, as I was, the Beltane night we spent here. Breathless, we sat down at Sister’s summit, looking westward toward the dusky township. The days were beginning to shorten and a cool breeze rolled up from the valley. Ruther leaned on one elbow to face me. ‘Have you been feeble with the want of me?’

  I laughed. ‘Not in the slightest way.’

  ‘Good then,’ he said, ‘nor I for you.’

  I glanced at him. ‘You have cut your hair like a man of the Empire.’

  ‘Better in the heat,’ he said. ‘You prefer me with clansman’s hair and beard?’

  ‘I prefer you neither way. I only make an observation.’

  Now it was he who laughed. ‘Ailia, I’ve missed your tender ways.’

  ‘You seem to have found your comforts in Rome.’

  ‘Jealousy becomes you,’ he said, eyes shining.

  ‘I meant the city,’ I said quickly. ‘It sounds like it has ensnared you further.’

  ‘I am willingly trapped,’ he said. His face softened. ‘I wish I could show you, Ailia. It is an otherworld—’

  I touched my finger to his lips to silence him. ‘Enough. You already look half-Roman, now you sound it, too. The tribespeople will begin to doubt your loyalty. Especially when you make claims for the Tribeking’s crown.’

  He shook his head. ‘I am a loyal clansman, Ailia,’ he insisted. ‘I love this country and I wish to see it prosper as I have seen other lands prosper. The wiseman, Llwyd—’ he grunted in frustration.

  ‘Hush,’ I chastised. ‘He is our Journeyman Elder—’

  Ruther exhaled heavily. ‘But he cannot see beyond the old ways. He sees the Empire only as a threat, but perhaps it is a gift.’ He turned to me. ‘The Romans will bring their crafts, their villas, their roads, their waterways, their fightcraft. There is so much that will be gained—for those with the eyes to see it.’

  ‘But will not the gains be paid heavily in losses?’ I asked.

  ‘What will be lost?’ he said. ‘Our mud huts? Our buckets?’

  I stared at him in shock. ‘Is your tribesman’s learning so faded? I am untaught yet even I know what will be lost. The most important thing: they will not cherish the laws of skin.’

  He met my gaze. His eyes were like a summer sky. He would have been the finest of men had I not known another finer.

  ‘How are you so loyal to what has abandoned you?’ he asked. ‘In Rome, there are so many different gods and ways to worship them, that no one even asks of your totem. Skin is what can be touched on your cheek. Nothing less or more. You are your word and your deed and you are judged so. Does such a world not appeal to you, Ailia?’

  I did not answer. A world without skin terrified me. Where were its roots? How was it fed?

  Ruther shifted in the silence. He seemed to be searching for words. ‘You are a servant woman of unknown parentage.’

  ‘Cleverly observed.’

  He smiled. ‘Do you dream of something more?’

  For what was he digging? ‘I am not wanting.’

  ‘You are not wanting of your own house, a marriage bed, fine jewellery?’ As he spoke he was fishing in his belt pouch and finally pulled out a gold pendant, tear-shaped in the Roman style. He laid its chain over my bent knee like a small, glittering snake. A dark red stone sat like a bead of blood at its centre.

  ‘What is this?’

  ‘A gift.’

  ‘I cannot wear such a gift. What would my worksisters think?’

  He rolled back his shoulders and spoke to the horizon. ‘They will think you are first consort to Ruther, son of Orgilos, High Warrior of Cad.’

  My mouth dropped open in surprise.

  Swinging around to kneel before me, he gripped my shoulders. ‘This is what I offer you,’ he said. ‘Leave the Tribequeen’s kitchen and come to my house. You will travel with me and share my bed until I marry—and beyond.’

  My thoughts spun. He had offered me servitude before, but not to stand, as honoured companion, at his side. I would see the Eastlands of which he spoke. I would draw yet closer to the knowledge of statecraft that he commanded. But I would never see Taliesin again.

  ‘Why do you not answer?’ he pushed. ‘Surely such a bond to a high warrior is a future greater than you have ever imagined.’

  My anger rose. Indeed his offer should delight any woman without skin, but who was he to define the limits of my hopes? ‘No greater or lesser than any future lived by the laws of the Mothers.’

  He warmed to my anger like it were fire, taking my face in his hands and kissing me greedily. Heat surged through my body at his touch. Like fat in a cookpot, I could not hold my shape.

  ‘You have grown more womanly, more beautiful, in even this short time,’ he whispered.

  ‘I am no great beauty,’ I scoffed, drinking his kisses like water.

  ‘Yet you bewitch me still.’ He grasped at my belt.

  I braced my hands on his chest to hold him back. ‘Ruther—’

  He silenced me with a more determined kiss.

  ‘Ruther!’ I insisted, ‘please steady this.’

  ‘Why do you parry me?’ he asked, frowning. ‘Has there been another since I have left?’

  I went to answer but the words would not come. I had not yet lain with Taliesin. There had been no bond made. I did not know if there would ever be.

  Ruther’s hands were upon me and under my robe. My mind protested his free admittance to my breasts and thighs, but my body knew a different logic, filling with blood and warmth where he touched. My hunger for Taliesin gathered and hardened at the chance of release. I would betray both men in this and yet I had promised nothing to either. Taliesin had my heart but he would not lay claim to my flesh. Right now this was Ruther’s and I gave it freely.

  ‘Wait,’ I whispered. I tugged off my cloak as he untied his belt. Then, with his mouth at my throat, I loosened my sword from my leg and hid it, one-handed, under my cloak. ‘It may be the time for seeding me,’ I whispered into his hair. ‘So spill outside. A babe now will not be well timed.’

  ‘I will spill outside,’ he assured me.

  My hip grazed raw against the pebbly ground, this time there was little gentleness in it. We coupled frantically, violently, on the hillside, each taking our fill of the other. I looked up to the night’s first stars as he moved above me. It was not a joining, but a feeding, and afterwards, as I lay with my head on his chest, my body was sated but my heart was even emptier.

  Ruther wrapped his thick arm around my shoulder. ‘I take this as your agreement,’ he murmured.

  ‘No,’ I said before I could stop it. Quickly, I softened my refusal. ‘You flatter me too much. I must take some time, to know if I can step up to such an honour.’

  The muscles of his chest stiffened. ‘I will give you one night. Not a moment longer. By tomorrow, market day, I want your answer.’

  Only after darkness fell that night did I recall the pendant, which must have slipped, forgotten, to the grass.

  We were back just in time for the meeting of council. It was still warm enough to gather outside. The discussion was lively with the new threat to Durotriga.

  I heard scattered talk a
s I went back and forth to the kitchen, replenishing platters of oatcakes and jugs of ale. But as the moon crept high and the voices rose, I stalled in the darkness to listen.

  ‘I cannot see their purpose in pursuing these tribelands,’ said Fraid. ‘We have been ready partners in trade. They skim the cream of this country without the burden of administering it. What do they truly seek?’

  ‘The Empire is a living beast.’ Ruther sat opposite Fraid in the visitor’s place. He had dressed in his clan tartan to meet with the councillors and looked like a tribesman again. ‘It follows the urge of all life: to grow. Now it would feed on this rich ground. The question is, can we turn its hunger to our advantage?’

  ‘Or should the beast be slain?’ Fibor’s voice was a growl.

  Amid the rumble of agreement, Llwyd rose beside Fraid. ‘Today Ruther has suggested that we submit to the rule of Rome.’

  I flinched at his naked account.

  Llwyd waited for the murmurs to subside, before he continued, bracing himself on his staff. ‘Let me answer that suggestion. Ruther speaks of growth,’ he began. ‘None understand the forces of growth more deeply than the tribes of Albion. In all that we do, every blessing we call, every bowl of milk we cast upon the ground, every time we lie down in the fields at Beltane, we proclaim that the Mothers are fruitful. Their fertile bodies are our country and our knowledge is the seed that ripens them. Without our rituals, their milk will dry, their wombs will wither, and their song will not be heard. We do not ask of the Mothers more than what they are able to renew. Rome’s hunger cannot be met. It should not be met. We do not submit to Rome.’

  I clutched my jug, quenched by his words.

  Most of the councillors were nodding, united in our Journeyman’s wisdom. Most but not all.

  ‘Should we not at least consider what Ruther tells us?’ said Etaina. ‘After all, he has been where we have not.’

  ‘I still say they are too fearful to breach our shores,’ said Fibor. ‘Let them first come and then we will talk of clientage.’

  ‘I agree,’ called Orgilos, Ruther’s own father. ‘If their fear of this island is so great that it caused four legions to mutiny, it will take more than one man’s speech to quell it.’

  The council murmured its agreement.

  ‘You are in a world of dreams if you think they will not come, Father,’ said Ruther. ‘And if you think we can fight them when they do.’

  Fibor’s mouth twitched. ‘Ruther, you believe they are the light of the world.’

  Ruther met his gaze. ‘If you saw their cities, you would agree with me.’

  ‘Enough!’ Fibor jumped to his feet. ‘He praises our enemies! He calls for our submission! This will not be tolerated.’ He drew his sword.

  I took a few steps back. It had to come to this. None sought to stop it.

  Both men moved clear of the circle and Ruther drew.

  They fought briefly, skilfully, the moonlight catching their flying blades. Fibor was one of our finest swordsmen but it seemed only moments before he was down on his back, Ruther’s blade at his throat, while his own lay struck to the ground.

  Etaina helped her husband to his feet, praising Ruther for sparing his life.

  I gathered the cups as the councillors readied to leave in silence.

  None would speak against Ruther now.

  I recounted all of the day to Bebin, huddled deep in her bedskins, where no one could hear us. When I had described every detail of Uaine’s costume, his beard and his bearing, I told her of Ruther’s desire that I come to his service.

  ‘Show caution,’ she counselled. ‘The honour of the tribes is slipping from him.’

  But she need not have worried. I already knew what I would do.

  18

  The Earth

  The earth receives all seeds, all ideas.

  The earth is our bridge to truth.

  STORM CLOUDS GATHERED the next morning and there was talk of heavy rains. Ianna was my companion to market as Bebin was waylaid skinning a goat. I was glad of it, for Bebin would have proved a greater barrier to what I had determined must happen this day.

  The stalls were abundant with late summer fruits, and the crowds were anxious to find the best of them before they turned. ‘Pears or apples? Which should be sweeter?’ mused Ianna, bent over the baskets.

  ‘It could not concern me less,’ I snapped.

  She looked at me in surprise. ‘I would have thought I stood with Cah.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ I sighed. I picked out some pears and put them in my basket. The sky darkened. This was my moment. ‘Ianna, by the look of the clouds there is not much time until they open. Perhaps you should finish choosing the fruit and I will search for Cookmother’s powders?’

  ‘She told us to stay together. She told me to keep you in my sight.’

  ‘But we will be soaked through if we are not quick,’ I urged. ‘I won’t be far. I’ll make rose cakes this afternoon,’ I added desperately, ‘and you can have the first one.’

  She nodded hesitantly and before she could change her mind, I took my basket and strode down the tradeway, ducking from sight so she could not follow. I walked through the medicine sellers, where the crowds were thinner, then out of the stalls and down to the Cam, unsettled under the grey sky.

  Alone finally, I stood close to the bank, feet firm on the grass, and began to breathe as I was taught by the Mothers of fire, to focus my will, to draw from the veins of spirit that flowed beneath me. It was hard to concentrate with the sound of the sellers in the distance and the knowledge that at any moment I might be discovered. But I stood tall and deepened the call of my breath, and soon the familiar quiver in my hands and legs told me I had awoken the forces that I sought.

  ‘Taliesin,’ I whispered into the heavy air, ‘come.’

  Water lapped at the banks. Nothing else moved.

  Taliesin had come to me beyond the forest before. Never this far from its edge, it was true, but perhaps, if my call was strong enough, he would reach me. And if he did not, then I would know he was lost to me and Ruther could have his desire, for I could not breach the Oldforest again.

  ‘Taliesin,’ I whispered again with all my strength. A long rumble of thunder rolled over the fields, stirring the air with its charge. I glanced to the horizon and, when I turned back, Neha was bounding upstream, where a figure crouched at the bank.

  The pears from my basket fell to the ground as I ran. ‘By the Mothers,’ I murmured into the folds of his shirt. ‘You are here.’

  We clung to one another, without words, until my heart felt it would break with happiness. ‘You are breath to me,’ I sighed, now shuddering at the thought of Ruther’s offer. Even if I never saw him again, I could love only Taliesin.

  He smiled in response but his luminous eyes were ringed with shadows. He was thinner than I remembered. I curled my fingers around his forearm. It was cold, the sinews and muscles almost visible through his delicate skin. ‘You are unwell—’

  ‘No, I—’ His words caught.

  ‘I have little time.’ I glanced back to the stalls.

  He gave a despondent laugh. ‘Be assured you have longer than I do. It may only be moments until—’

  ‘Until what?’ I urged.

  He looked to the ground.

  ‘No! Do not turn away from me. Now you must speak, Taliesin. There is no more time for mystery. Tell me how you are caught and why you cannot walk here freely—quickly, before I am called away.’

  He shook his head. ‘There is nothing to be gained in the telling of it.’

  ‘You are more stubborn than a goat! I will not endure another day of this. I am living an agony without you. And now I am wanted by a man of high birth, who offers me more than any woman without skin may hope for. And I would shun it all for you—who offers me nothing!’

  ‘Take it, Ailia. Take his offer.’

  I felt my face crumple. ‘Why do you urge me so?’

  ‘Because we cannot help each other. I thought we co
uld but we cannot. We will only cause each other sorrow in the attempting of it, and there has been enough of that. Without skin you can never come.’

  ‘But you are wrong!’ I cried. Thunder rolled, louder now, and the market sellers began to call the day’s close. I clutched his wrists, damp with a cold sweat. ‘Taliesin, I have been to your place. I have walked with the Mothers.’ I almost sobbed with the relief of speaking it.

  He stared at me. ‘It is not possible.’

  ‘It is true,’ I said. ‘They have taught me the fighting arts and given me this.’ I pulled up my skirts to reveal the bone handle above the sword’s leather sheath.

  Taliesin reached out, brushing the skin of my thigh, then the sword with his fingertips. He paled as he stared into my face, then light stirred in his black eyes. ‘You have journeyed.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, half laughing, half crying. ‘I have the journey-woman’s gift.’

  Then he was kissing my face and shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I knew it was so,’ he murmured. ‘I knew you would come. Now you will be trained, you will come again…’

  ‘No.’ My smile fell away. ‘I am not to be trained. I have told no one of this. I cannot. The turn of the seasons fell askew when I returned. Winter was as summer. I have been warned that a skinless journey can cause immense harm to my people.’ Now it was I who looked to the ground. ‘I have been too afraid to confess it.’

  He lifted my face with his hands. ‘You have been called by the Mothers. It is greater harm if you deny them.’

  ‘I hear their call, Taliesin. I hear it and feel it, but I do not have enough learning to answer it.’

  ‘Precious girl.’ He pressed his cool lips to my temple. ‘You must not be frightened. You must tell your Tribequeen and your wisepeople. You must train so that you can journey again. For my sake, you must.’

  ‘Why?’ I asked.

  The darkening sky flashed with light.

  ‘So that you can bring me home.’

  I watched, frozen, as the skin of his brow moistened with a slick sweat and began to blister into a ridged texture before my eyes. ‘What ails you?’ I gasped.