The Scottish Selkie
Page 18
She kept pace with the boar hunter as he moved with sure steps across the earth, as if he was king over it, giving off strength and confidence. Tanwen passed the blacksmith hut, the horse corral, granaries, and the stables. They came to rows of wheelhouses, built of circular walls of tightly stacked stones and heather thatched roofs. Barking dogs and barefoot children in short tunics darted up to her as she followed this man through a
village larger than the Ordovices and Silure hill forts put together. There was no bounce or sway in his walk as he led her past at least thirty circular homes on his way to the tallest and largest wheelhouse.
Tanwen crossed the stone floor to the amber blaze dancing around a black cauldron, which hung over the hearth. She glanced at a large, rectangular shield mounted on the wall. A man, sitting on a pile of lush furs near the fire, addressed his spearmen. Dressed in a short sleeve tunic, his legs were bare and gold rings adorned each of his toes.
The tattoos covering his arms and legs were similar to the sacred images engraved on the long stones which stood all over Caledonia. The largest swirl began small and curved into a larger loop, with a little one for wings, and long, thin lines as legs. So his patron goddess was Corra—the crane goddess—which revealed his closeness to the otherworld and his gift of prophecy. She shifted her gaze to the next tattoo: two connected circles, like two wheels, and she counted five knotted swirls within each. From the image of a four-legged animal with a prominent tail and a narrow head (a wolf), she knew his last five ancestors were all cousins who married each other. So, he was fifth generation of that bloodline, which began with his great-greatgreat-great-grandmother from the house of Wolves.
The gold torque banding his neck gleamed in the firelight. “Welcome to my village. I am Calach, Chief of the Caledonii.” His long hair, streaked with gray, matched his pointed beard. “But, do not tell me who you are, nor why you are here, until you have eaten. A banquet of roasted boar awaits in the feasting hall.”
The two Silure guards followed her to the rectangular, wooden hall. There, she sat on a lush fox fur at a small wooden table. A pang of hunger came over her as she was served warm, fresh bread, chewy boiled beef from the cauldron, and a juicy joint of roasted boar. After eating her fill, she washed it down with a cup full of thick mead.
Then, along with Huctia and Gethin, she went back to the wheelhouse and nodded to the chief as she entered. “I am Tanwen ferch Wena ferch Boudica, and I have traveled far, from the snow-topped peaks of the grandmother mountain of Eryri.”
“Greetings. We of the Caledonii know of Boudica and have long mourned her passing.”
“My thanks, Chief Calach.”
“Sit,” Calach said.
“You know of my grandmother?” The druidess sat down in front of Calach. “I am here at her urging.”
Her guards sat down beside her.
Briskly, the chief gestured to his spearmen to leave. Only Tanwen, Gethin, Huctia, and the Caledonii chief remained. The chief leaned his broad body toward Tanwen. “What message does Boudica send from the otherworld?”
She kept her gaze locked on Calach. “My ancestor, Boudica, foresees you will stop the Romans from coming north, but only by uniting the tribes into one army.”
“It is good. I have given some thought to this idea based on Boudica’s army of mixed Cymru tribes.” He took a swig of mead. “And so you come to aid us with your grandmother’s blessings and your druid gifts?”
She took a deep breath. This still didn’t make sense to her, but she had to do as her ancestor bade. “My grandmother sent me to marry your son and keep her bloodline alive. Somehow, this will thwart the Romans.”
Calach’s brows arched. “In truth.”
“This is what Boudica bids.” Tanwen shrugged her shoulders. “I must do as she wills.”
“You may deem you need to marry Brude, but I know not how he will take the news.” His mouth quirked, as if he tried to stifle a laugh. “His ancestors have not bid him to wed you, yet, I will speak to him.”
“My thanks for your kindness and hospitality.”
Calach nodded. “Did you enjoy the wild boar you feasted on? Brude brought one like it back from his hunt to feast on tomorrow. You were with him, I believe.” His eyes twinkled.
Brude? He was the warrior who made her blood boil? She was sure her eyes were as large as apples. “By the Goddess.”
Calach called the spearmen back and commanded them to show her, Huctia, and Gethin to a small wheelhouse that would be hers as long as she stayed with the Caledonii.
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