Time of the Druids: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 3)
Page 1
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Time of the Druids
A Time Travel Romance
Jane Stain
janestain.com
Copyright held by Cherise Kelley writing as Jane Stain.
All rights reserved.
Paperback ISBN: 9781973313724
Contents
Also by Jane Stain
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Also by Jane Stain
Also by Jane Stain
Tavish
Seumas
Tomas
Time of the Celts
Time of the Picts
Time of the Druids
Kilts at the Renaissance Faire
Leif
As Cherise Kelley
How I Got Him to Marry Me
Dog Aliens
My Dog Understands English!
High School Substitute Teacher’s Guide
To my editor, Mea Cadwell.
Yes, you’re an editor.
A developmental editor, and a good one.
Thank you.
Preface
The Irish word for magic is druídecht
The Welsh word for seer is dryw
Chapter 1
Talorac didn't mind that his older brother Breth had the limelight. No, planning with the clan chieftains had never been Tal’s thing. He put the finishing touches on Breth’s new chisel and then nodded to those waiting in line as he ran out of the forge shed. All he wanted to do was work at the forge, but nowadays he could only grab a moment here and there to do so.
Talorac was eighteen, and on his last birthday, he should have been sent off with ceremony to the large forge at Broch Nine, where he should now be smithing everyone’s weapons and tools under Master Ferath’s ever-diminishing supervision. Tal had been looking forward to that ever since he was eight years old, when Ferath had said he showed promise.
However, through trial by combat seven months ago, Tal’s brother Breth had become head chieftain over ten of the clans. Before, Breth had been second in line to run only their clan, and Father had given Tal leave to go to the forge. Now though, Tal took every moment he could find to escape from the heavy burden of potential duty that hung over his head as Breth’s nearest male kin.
Ten clans, he thought as he ran to yet another meeting. Five hundred warriors! Who could hold sway over any five hundred people, let alone warriors?
Tal fervently hoped the child Breth’s new wife Jaelle carried was a boy. And that the years until this child was a man went without incident to Breth.
Slipping into the meeting of three dozen people sitting around the bonfire outside the broch in the early light, Tal passed the chisel to Breth as a bribe to not chide him for being late.
It worked. Breth proudly held Tal’s gift up to show the other nine chieftains and their wives, sons or brothers — other poor fools destined to take the chieftains’ places when the inevitable happened.
They all ooh’ed and ah’d, mostly sincerely.
Emboldened by this success, Tal looked into his brother’s eyes.
“Try not to lose this one, you hear?”
Everyone laughed, and Breth socked Tal in the upper arm in retaliation for the teasing. And brought his hand back with a shake, eyeing Tal’s huge smithing muscles.
Tal looked around at all the smiling faces. Significantly missing this time were the druids. Each clan had two or three, and they acted as moderators. These gatherings were usually at the sacred grove, but the druids had said they needed it for something more important this day. What could be more important than a gathering of the chieftains?
Oh well. Far be it from Tal to understand the spiritual leaders, teachers, historians, and councilors. They were so alien, although he'd known the druids of these ten clans his whole life, coming into contact with the other clans yearly as they all migrated from broch to broch.
Chieftains Brude and Leo’s clans now manned the barbarian fort the ten clans had taken seven months ago, and Cint and Fergus’s clans held the one taken last month. Each fort would only fit two clans, or Breth would have left more. Taking a fort was easy, but holding a fort was another story. Anyhow, all ten chieftains were here at Broch One for this planning meeting.
Cint’s wife Agrona stood and waited till Breth nodded at her, then spoke.
"Sure, we have taken two of the barbarians’ forts, but you well know the purpose of taking them was to stage raids into the lands south of that foul wall they’ve erected. The time for waiting around is done. We must raid."
There was a general murmur of assent among the leadership.
Breth stood in the focal spot next to the bonfire and waited for quiet as Agrona sat back down.
"Aye, the time for waiting has come to an end. Very soon we shall raid!"
A cheer went up.
"What of the Gaels?" said Brude before it had died down. "How are we to confidently raid the barbarians to the south when the threat of the Gaels yet lurks to the west?"
Others joined in.
"They say Drest paid the Gaels to attack us."
Yes he had. Jaelle had seen him do it, and she was a reliable source of information on the man, having known him in her own time.
"Don't believe everything you hear. They say stuff like that just so we toe the line."
No we don’t! Where do you get that idea?
“No, I believe Drest paid those Gaels."
Good. At least one of you has sense.
"Paid or not, they’re still a threat."
This is true, even without Drest to worry about anymore. Ha! Breth sure put him in his place.
"Bring them on."
"Aye, we shall show them who has better fighting instincts, the people or the Gaels."
"I heard we
were to join forces with the Gaels and all attack the southern barbarians together."
"Nay, that was more of Drest’s posturing. He's the only one we heard it from.”
“Breth hasn't said anything about it since."
Talorac was glad Breth let the leaders murmur awhile. Father had explained to the both of them that people resented it if you didn't let them express themselves a bit. Tal himself had been allowed to rant and rave a whole day at being told he wasn't going to the main forge after all but would have to stay and shadow Breth.
Looking back, Talorac didn't know why he'd expected anything different. Somehow, he had thought he was special, the exception to the rule. After Tal was done pounding all their spare metal into the most beaten-flat shields ever, Father had set him straight on that notion. He'd done it without Breth knowing, and now Tal saw the wisdom in that.
Breth loved him as a brother does, as an equal. Father had far more experience as a clan chieftain, and he knew when it came to clan leadership, you couldn't treat everyone as equal. Father had told them stories about how treating others as the chieftain’s equals could lead to resentment and even betrayal or desertion.
Tal had accepted his lot. He would dutifully learn all that Breth did, even though in his heart Tal was an artisan, not a strategist.
Now Breth held up his hand for attention, and he got it.
“Aye, we shall ally with the Gaels against the southern barbarians who call themselves Romans. Their wall will not be anymore fortified that it already is, and we shall not be contained to this upper northern region as they wish us to be. That cannot happen!"
A cheer went up.
Looking into the eyes of each chieftain in turn, and also into the eyes of their wives, sons, and brothers, Breth shook his fist in the air defiantly and built camaraderie where before there had been dissonance.
Talorac rubbed his sweaty palms on his baggy Pictish shorts.
I don't know how he does that, but I'll do my best if it ever comes down to me.
Only when Breth had made the rounds and shaken everyone's hand did he make his way back to the focal point of the fire ring and hold his hands up for quiet so he could speak again.
And again he got the quiet, but this time, Tal noticed, Breth got much more. He got the earnest attention of everyone present. They all wanted to follow him, wanted to do whatever he bade them.
There really was something to this leadership thing. You couldn't just expect people to follow you because you were the leader. Drest had tried that, and it had ended in disaster. No, Breth had the way of it, that was plain to see. And it wasn't for naught, that saying ‘Lead by example.’
Breth spoke to the gathering slowly and congeniality, as if he were speaking to only one friend.
"Very soon, a small team of special scouts will go over to the Gaelic kingdom. They will gather support for us and report back once we have enough support so that we can recruit them to our cause. In all honesty, this should not be difficult, for even the Gaels must realize our cause is their cause. The southern barbarians don’t see a difference between our two peoples, and just because we’re closer doesn’t mean the so-called Romans won't seek to overcome and enslave the Gaels as well."
Tal gasped.
It was highly irregular in the middle of a meeting of chieftains, but a small small boy named Cimoit ran up right in the middle of the conversation, and without pausing to say excuse me or anything grabbed Tal’s hand and tried to drag him to his feet — which was funny, seeing as how Cimoit was only seven years old and weighed half what Tal did, if that. He was insistent and there was urgency on his face.
"They've summoned you to the sacred grove."
Tal patted the boy’s head dismissively.
"You're mistaken boy. It's the warriors they would want at the sacred grove, not me."
Leo looked kindly on Tal.
"Well every man is a warrior in times of need. Even us older folk. What's the emergency, Cimoit? Should we all go to the sacred grove?"
Half of the chieftains and most of the sons had stood up before Cimoit answered.
"Nay, only Talorac is summoned. He is summoned urgently."
Shivers went down Tal’s spine when he heard Breth’s response to this.
"Tal is part of the small scouting group. Go, Tal. Go and do us proud."
Chapter 2
"Why didn’t you tell me?" Tal called out to his brother as he let Cimoit pull him to his feet, feeling the sting of betrayal.
Breth smiled sadly.
"Because I didn't want you to skip out and avoid this mission, Tal. You know you would have, given the slightest warning."
What could he say to that? Nothing, that’s what. And so he turned on his heel and let Cimoit lead him down the path toward the river, where the sacred grove and the druids awaited.
Plenty of people were headed the other way, carrying water up from the river to the broch that could never hold all these people but would nonetheless serve as a good base from which to stage their raids.
Hah, all the barbarians would've had to do to keep to themselves down there was not build the wall and let the animals roam freely and not tell the people they couldn't come down there. The people didn't want to go down there. But being told they couldn’t? That boiled the blood.
Tal smiled. Raiding those so-called Romans was more fun even than the small skirmishes the clans had with the Gaels from time to time. An alliance with the Gaels was a worthy cause, and maybe a journey at the behest of the druids would be fun.
For now, he would be prepared for fun.
Actually, he felt some relief at being summoned away from the gathering of chieftains. Breth had broken off his betrothal to Morna to marry Jaelle. And who could blame him. Morna was the daughter of a chieftain who had been killed along with their whole clan while she was away, but even so she had many allies among the chieftains, and Talorac’s parents were now trying to get him to marry Morna. He shuddered. Anything would be better than spending his life at the beck and call of that little shrew.
His feet stepped a little lighter as he left the grassy broch valley and entered the forest by the river.
He was almost there, just a few turns in the trail among the trees and he would reach the most revered trees in the land around this broch. Ah, the sacred grove. Shady and quite magical, it welcomed him.
But who was that? Talking with his clan’s druids Deoord, Boann, and Ia (Eye-uh) was the most beautiful woman Talorac had ever seen. She was small yet lithe, with skin as white as snow. Her long golden hair fell to her waist in swirly tresses, and her face was angled and shadowed in a very pleasing way, those grey eyes looking out at him with the wariness of a seasoned fighter.
Good, he was not the only warrior called to this meeting.
"Hello,” he said to her. “Where do you come from, and what's your name?"
Looking right at him, the mysterious beauty flitted. One moment she was far from him, and the next moment she was right at his side, with nary an indication how she had gotten from one spot to the other.
For the land’s sake! She's a druid as well as a warrior. Never thought I'd see that.
Her clothes were odd: her skirts whirled about her wider and longer than any he’d seen before: on his people’s women, the Gaelic women, or on Roman men or women. All he could figure was her long wide skirts were good for hiding her while she squatted in the woods behind a bush, because he couldn't think of any other good use for them. They are so voluminous that they must give her trouble climbing stairs — He was so struck by this that he remarked upon it.
"Can you possibly fight in those ridiculous long skirts?"
She gave him a hard look before she flitted back across the sacred grove.
"That's hardly any concern of yours. You're just to do as I say on this mission. Don't ask questions, and don't try to be in charge, whatever you do." Even as she said this, she tore her too-long skirts off until she stood there in a quite adequate dress that she had underne
ath them. Without them to distract him, he realized the shape of her undergarment looked familiar.
Tal’s eyes narrowed at the stranger. "That's a Gaelic dress." And then remembering he was talking to a stranger, he tore his eyes away from her very distracting figure and forced himself to look at Deoord. "Why do we have a Gael here in the sacred grove? "
Chapter 3
Deirdre studiously ignored the man who was to accompany her. It was a little bit difficult, but she was only here on an errand and then she would be going off to the next time period on another errand. It wouldn't do to get attached to the first handsome man she met, even if being close to him did make her stomach flutter and her knees go weak. Why was she even thinking about that on her very first trip on druid business?
Instead of indulging him in conversation, she turned all around to gaze in ecstasy.
"Nature's power is so strong here!"
"Aye," said Boann, "this is our sacred grove. Nothing man-made has been put up here. Our stores are underground."
"Stores?"
"We sleep here," said Deoord, "so our power is always strong in the morning."
Boann smiled.
"Aye, do you not visit the sacred groves in your own time?"
Realization dawned.
"I have visited a few, aye, now that you mention it, but of necessity they are far away from any settlement — half a day's journey at least."
Deirdre put her hand on the dagger which housed Galdus to let the druids know she would be speaking in part for him.