by Jayne Castel
“Sire.” Her voice was low, slightly breathless, as if she had been running. “You summoned me.”
“Aye,” Ecgfrith replied. “We have guests from the north, Hea. I’d like you to join us for a feast.”
She dipped her head. “Of course, milord.”
Ecgfrith waved his hand casually in Bridei’s direction, almost as an afterthought. “This is Bridei mac Beli. He fostered here years ago—do you remember him?”
Bridei watched Hea turn, her gaze meeting his once more. He saw from the look on her face that she did remember him.
“Aye, sire,” she murmured. Her gaze shifted then, to the thegn sitting across the table—a broad-shouldered young warrior with yellow hair and a slightly flattened nose.
Bridei shifted his attention from Hea to where Rinan sat watching him. He had been so distracted by her, he had not even realized his old enemy sat just a few feet away. In truth, he had not even recognized him.
Bridei and Heolstor took their seats while Hea performed the task of pouring wine for the king’s table. Bridei watched her as she moved from person to person, pouring sloe wine from a bronze ewer. She moved with fluid elegance; he could have easily gone on watching her forever if there had not been a wolf in sheep’s clothing seated just a few feet away.
Ecgfrith could not be trusted.
The Northumbrian king had a mind like a newly-whetted blade. If he discovered a weakness he would exploit it; Bridei needed to keep his mind on the reason he had traveled south, not on the winsome fire-haired witch circuiting the table. When Hea leaned over his shoulder and filled his cup with wine, he did not look at her. He was aware that Ecgfrith was observing him over the rim of his own cup, a vulpine look on his face.
Even so, the scent of her—lavender mixed with the sweet musk of her skin—caused his pulse to quicken, his groin to harden.
Bridei inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to close his eyes.
Aye, she was distracting him terribly.
It was a relief when she moved on to Heolstor, exchanging a grin of welcome with him as she poured his wine.
After she had served the king’s table, Hea took a seat at the king’s right—a position which mystified Bridei. Such a seat was usually reserved for the warrior who commanded the king’s men, not a young female of low birth.
Had the king claimed her as his lover?
Intrigued, Bridei looked over at the queen. Irmenburgh did not look pleased. Her mouth was pursed, her slender shoulders tense. As Bridei remembered, the queen wore a heavy wooden crucifix upon her breast. She was a pious, quiet woman who had never given the king a moment of trouble—yet Bridei suspected it was a passionless union.
For the king to flaunt his lover like this was a grave insult to his wife.
Bridei shifted his gaze back to Ecgfrith. The king had begun helping himself to food, signaling that the meal had started. Around them, men and women fell upon the spread before them, their voices echoing high in the stone tower.
Bridei took a mouthful of bean stew and washed it down with a sip of sloe wine. The food and drink here was as delicious as he remembered. The cooks in his own hall could learn a thing or two from those in Bebbanburg. He reached for some cured pork, and met Rinan’s pale-blue gaze across the table.
The warrior stared at him, his expression aggressive, challenging. “Why have you come back?” he growled. “No one invited you.”
Bridei grinned. “A flat nose suits you.”
Laughter rumbled around the table, although it died away quickly when Rinan shot the warriors who were still chortling a filthy look.
Bridei glanced across at where Hea was taking a sip from her cup, and noted she was trying not to smile.
Chapter Seven
Ecgfrith’s Game
Hea watched Bridei out of the corner of her eye. Seeing him this close unnerved her. His presence was so strong it was almost impossible not to look at him, although she noted the lines of his face were harsher than she remembered. He was handsome, but there was an edge to his good looks and hardness in his dark brown eyes that had been absent eight and a half years earlier.
Yes, she remembered exactly how long had passed since the last time she had looked upon Bridei mac Beli. He had not recognized her at first when she had crossed to the high seat. Yet she had seen the naked male appraisal in his gaze before a flare of sudden recognition.
Hea glanced down at the spread of food before her. Bridei’s unexpected arrival had robbed her of appetite; she could not think of food when the man who had once saved her from Rinan’s unwanted attentions, whom she had dreamed of seeing again, was sitting just a few feet away.
She noticed Bridei kept stealing glances in her direction, trying to catch her eye. She could see he was used to not having to work for a woman’s attention. Hea knew she should ignore him, focus on others at the table, but even so she felt her gaze drawn toward him.
A few feet away, Ecgfrith also watched his Pictish guest keenly. His expression was shuttered, unreadable.
For a while everyone at the table focused upon their meal. Conversation centered on the quality of the food, and the wine and mead. Eventually, it was Bridei who turned talk to other matters. He looked up from his platter, his gaze shifting to Ecgfrith.
“I thank you for your hospitality,” he said, his voice low. The timbre of it gave Hea a shiver of pleasure. She imagined being in his arms, hearing that voice purr in her ear. “But I imagine you want to know why I’m here?”
The king glanced up. “I’m curious why you’d make such a long journey. You could have just sent a messenger, if you had news for me.”
Bridei inclined his head slightly. “Some things need to be said face-to-face,” he replied. “Surely you have heard what has gone on in the north.”
The king held his gaze. “I’ve heard you’ve been busy of late, that you have been campaigning.”
Bridei nodded. “After my father's passing there was much to be done. Many lands that had to be reclaimed.”
“You’ve made quite a name for yourself.” Ecgfrith raised his cup of mead to his lips and took a measured sip. “It seems you are now a warrior of some renown.”
Bridei’s mouth quirked. “I’m only putting things right. Too long have my people sat in the shadow of others. It’s time for me to take back my birthright.”
“Your birthright?” Ecgfrith gave a low chuckle. “You were never short on confidence, Bridei—even as a child.”
Bridei gave the king a long, hard look. “Lord Ecgfrith, I wish to—”
The king lifted a hand, cutting his guest off mid-sentence. “Come now, Bridei. You've only just arrived here. Let us speak of more serious matters tomorrow, once you have rested.”
Hea watched Bridei’s gaze narrow and his expression darken. She glanced from one man to the next, realizing that Ecgfrith was playing a game—one of power, of dominance.
Bridei was not on his home soil; he would not dictate the terms here.
The noon feast finished mid-afternoon. Filled with rich food and too much mead, the warriors, Angle and Pict alike, got up from the table and slowly dispersed from the hall. Meanwhile, the rest of the folk who lived and worked in the Great Tower returned to their chores.
Bridei rose from the table, swaying slightly from all the sloe wine he had consumed. Yet he was irritated and barely able to keep his feelings from showing.
“Will you join me at a game of Cyningtaefl?” Ecgfrith asked. “Surely you still play?”
Bridei clenched his jaw and gave a brusque nod. “Later, if I may. I must see to my men and horses.”
The Northumbrian king smiled back at him, an infuriating expression that Bridei remembered well.
“I hope they find their lodgings comfortable.” His tone was low and polite, although the meaning behind it was not lost on Bridei. Ecgfrith barely tolerated his presence here; the tension between them was so taut now you could have sliced it with a blade. Bridei only wished to be out of this man’s presence. He met Ecg
frith’s eye once more. “Soon, we will need to exchange more than just pleasantries.”
Ecgfrith smiled. “Perhaps, but it will be when I am ready—this eve, once you are rested from your journey perhaps.” The king’s gaze flicked to where Hea sat silently listening to their conversation. “I must take some advice first.”
Next to him, Irmenburgh stiffened, although her gaze remained downcast. Bridei could see the tension in her slender shoulders.
Once again, Bridei wondered at this odd relationship. He had never heard of a king taking a lover to his high seat and treating her as an advisor—it made no sense to him. Nor did his use of a seer, flouting the old ways in a hall that was far more Christian than it was pagan.
Bridei cast a searching glance in Hea’s direction, but her expression gave little away. The answers to his questions would have to wait. Without another word Bridei turned and stepped down from the high seat, making his way across the hall. Heolstor and his other warriors fell in behind him.
All of his men except Heolstor had feasted at the lower tables with Ecgfrith’s warriors. Although none of the others spoke Englisc, the dominant tongue of Britannia, Bridei had seen them keeping a wary eye upon the conversation on the high seat, lest relations sour between the two leaders. Despite Ecgfrith’s show of hospitality, Bridei and his men were not fooled.
The Picts were not welcome here.
When Bridei and most of the others upon the high seat had left, Hea struggled to gather her scattered wits.
I can’t believe it … he’s actually here.
An odd excitement churned in the pit of her belly, a sensation that made it difficult for her to concentrate on anything else. Eventually she mastered her emotions and turned her attention back to the king. She noted the way he watched the Pict leader as he walked away, the assessing shrewd look on Ecgfrith’s face.
What’s he planning?
After a few moments Ecgfrith turned his attention back to her.
“I did not realize you and Bridei knew each other.”
“We were friends when he lived here, sire,” she replied. Hea flicked her gaze to Rinan, who still sat a few feet away, and wondered if Ecgfrith knew it was her whom Bridei had defended all those years ago. She wished Rinan had left the high seat with the other warriors as well. Ever since the day Bridei had broken his nose, Rinan had never bothered her again. Still, she was wary of him, and always would be. Nonetheless, Rinan had grown into a formidable warrior, and had earned his place at the king’s side.
Sensing the tension between his seer and warrior, Ecgfrith waved Rinan away. “You can go—we’ll speak later.”
“Very well, sire,” Rinan grumbled, before rising to his feet. He threw Hea a sour look and moved off.
“Come with me to my alcove,” Ecgfrith bid Hea. “I need your advice.”
Hea nodded and smiled, rising to her feet. “Of course, sire—but I must first fetch my seeing drum.”
Ecgfrith nodded. “I will meet you in the alcove presently.”
Hea left the hall, weaving her way through the throng of slaves and servants who were cleaning up after the feast. She did not want to keep Ecgfrith waiting. She knew he wished to ask her about Bridei, and of the reason for his arrival here.
Hea was crossing the stable yard outside, heading toward the high gate, when she spotted Bridei outside the stables. He was leaning against the doorframe, talking to Heolstor. The sight of him made her pulse race. She was aware of his presence keenly, even from many yards away. As she approached, Bridei looked up, said something to Heolstor, and then stepped out to intercept her.
“Greetings again, Hea.”
She lifted her chin, tilting her face up so she could meet his gaze. His nearness made it difficult to concentrate, although she did her best to mask it with a light, teasing smile. “Hello, Bridei.”
She was aware then that he had deliberately blocked her path; he would not be thwarted in speaking direct to her.
“You have grown up,” he murmured, his voice low, intimate. “I barely recognized you.”
Hea stiffened. He had meant it as a compliment but the reminder of the awkward girl he had left behind rankled. Her mother had been right; men were fickle creatures. “I knew you the moment you rode in through the low gate,” she replied before her gaze flicked to Heolstor. “And I’d recognize your hair anywhere.”
Heolstor laughed in response. “Says the woman with fire hair.”
“Yours has darkened over the years,” Bridei noted, his gaze still upon Hea. His voice had a soft, beguiling edge that made Hea’s skin warm, made her breathing grow shallow. A man like this was dangerous.
“Just as well it has,” she replied with a laugh. “I used to resemble a carrot.”
Bridei smiled. “Much about you has changed. I remember a tiny scrap of a girl. Now I see a woman.”
The intensity of his stare made her body flush. He spoke as if the two of them were alone, as if Heolstor was not standing there listening to every word.
Stepping back from him, she felt her breathing ease, for his very presence unbalanced her and made her feel lightheaded. She inhaled deeply and clutched her skirts, realizing as she did so that her palms were sweaty.
“I'd better go,” she said, masking her discomfort with another smile. “The king needs me.”
Bridei’s brow furrowed. “So you're Ecgfrith’s seer? That's an odd arrangement.”
Hea’s smile slipped. She did not like his tone. “What’s so odd about that?”
“Seers are common amongst my people,” Bridei replied. “But I thought Christians like Ecgfrith shunned the old ways.”
“I thought your mother attended the king? Heolstor spoke up from behind them. “How is Lewren?”
Hea tore her gaze from Bridei’s and shifted her attention upon Heolstor. “Mōder died a year ago today.”
Both men tensed, their expressions growing serious.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Heolstor said quietly. “She was a good woman.”
“Aye,” Bridei added. “I’m sorry too, Hea.”
The way he said her name made a shiver feather across Hea’s skin. Bridei unnerved her. It had been years since she had seen him last, and in the past she had adored him, looking up at him as a figure of romance and protection—an image that had never been real.
Things were different now.
The man before her was no romantic figure she could admire from afar but a very real, virile man. A man used to getting what he wanted. It did not matter that his nearness caused all rational thought to flee her mind; she needed to be wary of him.
“I must go.” Hea stepped around the men and nodded briskly at them. “I bid you both a good day.”
Neither Bridei nor Heolstor spoke as she hurried away.
Chapter Eight
The Shadow of War
The king was waiting for Hea when she entered the alcove. She sensed his presence the moment she pushed back the hanging and stepped inside, her bare feet crunching on fresh rushes underfoot.
Ecgfrith sat near a small window upon a wooden chair that was draped in a thick wolf’s pelt. The wooden shutters were open, letting in the pale afternoon light. Beyond, the sky was colorless as the day grew chill. The king did not look at Hea, instead he gazed out the window, his expression introspective.
Hea clutched her small, leather drum to her breast and steadied her breathing. She had sprinted back here from home after retrieving the drum. “Apologies for the delay, milord,” she gasped. “I came as quickly as I could.”
Ecgfrith turned from the window and shrugged, before favoring her with a smile. “Worry not, the delay gave me time to think.”
Hea smiled back, relieved that Bridei’s arrival had not completely soured Ecgfrith’s mood. However, she could see the king had been brooding and would be wanting answers. “Shall we begin?”
Ecgfrith nodded, and Hea made her way into the center of the alcove where a goatskin rug spread across the rushes. There, she sank to the
ground and folded her legs neatly under her. The king rose from his chair and crossed to her, sinking down onto the rug opposite. It was a familiar ritual for them both.
Meeting her gaze, Ecgfrith smiled once more—this time the expression was warm, and oddly boyish. “I value your counsel, Hea. I’m glad you’re here.”
His words caught her off guard. “It’s a privilege to serve you, sire.”
He waved her polite words away. “Aye—but I hope you enjoy putting your gift to good use as well.”
Hea dipped her head. “I do … and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
She meant it too, although truthfully she was not in the mood for divining today. Her nerves were on edge, her thoughts in tatters. They kept turning to the arrogant Pictish lord. Bridei would not let her be.
Hea inhaled deeply, bracing herself. She would need to push her own thoughts about Bridei far from her mind, if she was to enter a dream state and seek answers for the king. She met Ecgfrith’s steady hazel gaze. “What is it you wish to know, milord?”
His mouth twitched. “I remember Bridei mac Beli as little more than a cocksure upstart—yet now he returns to Bebbanburg like a conquering hero.”
“His presence here bothers you, milord?”
Ecgfrith screwed his face up. “I raised that boy as my own, yet I fear he now sees me as his enemy … I want to know why he has come, and what he’s plotting.”
Hea set her small drum between them and gathered her thoughts. In order to connect with the other side, she had to concentrate. The world she was about to enter did not like to be troubled by mortals. She would need to relax, to shut her mind off to all else.
“Give me your hand, sire.”
Ecgfrith obeyed, reaching out his right hand. She took it, before placing her own hand upon his outstretched palm, her fingertips resting lightly upon his wrist. It was an intimate gesture, one that a lover or a mother might make. Initially, sitting this close to him and touching the king had made Hea uncomfortable; yet these days she was accustomed to it. As always, Ecgfrith’s hand was cool and strong, his fingers long and finely molded; the hand of an intelligent man.
