by Jayne Castel
It was cool inside the woodland, a respite from the day’s heat. The shadows were growing long. The night arrived very late this far north, and dusk still felt some way off. The light had turned golden, covering the world in a gilded veil. It was a lovely afternoon, and surrounded by laughter and merriment, Hea should have felt light-hearted. Yet she did not.
Ever since her trip to the falls with Bridei, she had been on edge. He had kept his distance over the past few days, which did not surprise her. The incident at the falls had cast a shadow over them both. Usually, he would chat to her in the evenings, as they lay on opposite sides of the hearth upstairs; but ever since that day, he had come to bed late and had said little. Once again, she did not blame him, and was grateful he seemed to finally understand.
The travelers from Dundurn reached the glen as the sun slid toward the western horizon, bringing another glorious summer’s day to a close. Streaks of pink and gold stained the sky and the scent of pine filled the balmy air. Hea had never known such a warm summer—day after day of cloudless blue skies. Folk were saying that this year’s harvest would be the best in a decade.
Crowds of people had already gathered in the glen, clustering around a great pyre of branches. It seemed everyone had brought fuel for the fire from their own village. Laughter filled the glen as men dragged the carts from Dundurn and threw their branches upon the already huge pile waiting.
Hea’s gaze slid over the clearing, taking in the crowd. Picts seemed to wear less clothing than the folk she had grown up amongst, and the warm weather meant that most of the men were shirtless, while many women wore little more than a leather band covering their breasts, Ciara included. Hea was one of the few who were covered up, and she felt conspicuous. Most of the children here ran naked around the clearing.
Glancing down at her breasts, snug in the tightly-laced leather bodice, Hea wondered if she would ever be bold enough to walk around so scantily-dressed. In Bebbanburg a woman would be spat at and stoned for dressing so—but here folk were different.
Life was different.
The glen was a sheltered spot, with a burn trickling through its lowest point. Velvet-green grass covered the gently sloping ground where revelers spread out plaid and furs to sit upon. Everyone had brought food and drink with them, which they laid out ready for the feast to follow.
Hea swung down from her pony, and led it over to the edge of the trees, with the other horses. Bridei had just finished unsaddling his stallion, and he caught her eye. “It’s the largest gathering in years,” he said with a grin. “It should be a good night.”
She found herself smiling back, for his enthusiasm was infectious.
After seeing to her pony, Hea followed Bridei through the crowd to where Ciara, Una, and the other women had laid out a spread ready for their king. Men called out to Bridei as he passed, their gazes gleaming and grins on their faces. Others barreled into him, crushing their king in a hug or slapping his back as he walked by. Bridei greeted them all, with the easy familiarity of a man completely at ease among his people.
He is a good king, Hea reflected. His people love him.
The scene contrasted with the times she had seen Ecgfrith engage with the folk of Bebbanburg. Rarely had he ever walked among them, and despite that the Northumbrians adored their king, they had always been a little in awe of him. Ecgfrith had never mingled with common-folk.
Hea clenched her jaw. Except for my mother. Even now, nearly two months after his death, the bitterness she felt toward Ecgfrith had not dimmed. She sometimes wondered if he would ever have told her the truth about her parentage, if the campaign had not lowered his defenses. He had never done anything unless he stood to benefit.
Pushing thoughts of Ecgfrith aside, for they cast a shadow over this joyous evening, Hea followed Bridei to a great fur spread out over the grass and sat down upon the edge, a few feet away from him.
Heolstor and Ciara joined them. Bridei filled his cup with mead and rose to his feet, while around them the crowd of revelers went silent, their faces turning toward their king.
“Welcome all.” Bridei’s voice rang out over the glen. “Let us all celebrate the shortest night, our victory over Northumbria, and the bounty of this summer.” He raised his cup high. “To the Kingdom of Fortriu—may she last and prosper!”
Men and women rose to their feet and lifted their cups high. A roar went up amongst the glen, rising high into the sultry air.
Hea walked amongst the revelers, a cup of wine in hand. The light had almost faded, and they were getting ready to light the bonfire. A few feet away, two men were wrestling with shields while onlookers cheered them on. The first man to push his opponent to the ground using his shield would win. After the drinking and feasting, there had been a number of games to pass the time while everyone waited for night to fall. On the far side of the glen, a line of men were showing off their skills at wielding a hand axe, while a crowd of giggling girls looked on.
Smiling as the two shield wrestlers grunted and cursed at each other, Hea turned and nearly walked into a man who had stepped up behind her.
“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her cup to one side as wine sloshed over the brim. However, whatever else she was about to say stilled on her tongue when she realized whom she had nearly collided with.
Rinan looked down at her. Standing this close, he was intimidating, towering over her. His work in the smith’s forge had bulked him out even more over the past month. Even all these years later, she was still wary of him. Apart from seeing him and Una together on that wall—she’d had no contact with him of late. Tolarggan the smith kept his new slave busy.
Hea forced a polite smile. “Evening, Rinan.”
He held her gaze, and she waited for him to say something unpleasant, or to insult her as he had in the past. Yet he merely looked down at her, his expression serious. “Wes hāl, Hea,” he replied in their tongue.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, keeping her tone light and resisting the urge to step back from him.
His mouth quirked in a half-smile. “The mead’s not as good as home.”
Hea smiled back. That was the first joke she had ever heard Rinan make. An awkward silence stretched between them after he had spoken. The intensity of Rinan’s look was starting to put her on edge.
Hea stepped back. “The sloe wine is excellent though,” she replied keeping her tone light. “You should try some. Good eve, Rinan.”
She was about to move away, when he stopped her. “Hea … wait.” She met his gaze once more and was surprised to see that his cheeks had reddened. “There’s something I need to say.” She went still, while he held her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I did, all those years ago.”
Hea stared at him. Was she hearing things? Was Rinan son of Broga actually apologizing? After a few moments she nodded. “Thank you … although it’s all in the past now.”
“All the same I wanted you to know it.”
She inclined her head, frowning. “Why?”
Rinan’s face twisted before he glanced right, at where a group of women were laughing and chatting together—Una among them. The young woman looked like a wood-nymph this evening, dressed in a gauzy skirt with nothing but a wisp of leather covering her small, pert breasts. Her long hair flowed over her bare shoulders.
“I’ve never been good with women,” he mumbled. “But I want to be.”
As he spoke, Una glanced across at them. She and Rinan’s gazes met, and Hea saw the girl’s tanned cheeks flush.
Watching them, Hea smiled. For a moment she forgot the emptiness in her own heart. After years of being rejected by every woman he wooed, Rinan had found love in the last place he expected it.
Like Bridei, she was not sure what Una saw in him exactly, for Rinan would never be an easy man to warm to, but Hea was pleased for him nonetheless. Did not everyone deserve at least one chance at happiness?
Night fell and the bonfire whooshed into life, golden flames licking into the darkness, and throwing up
sparks like fireflies. Mead, ale, and wine flowed, and some revelers danced around the fire while others played music upon a lyre and a calf-skin drum.
Heolstor and Ciara were among the dancers, their faces flushed as they flew around the fire. The lovers stared at each other, their gazes bright. The attraction between those two was so strong it made the fine hair on the back of Hea’s arms prickle.
Hea was watching them, lost in her own thoughts, when Bridei approached her.
“Do you dance?”
She glanced across at him and winced. “Aye—but badly.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe that for a moment. I’d wager you dance like a Fair Folk maid.”
Hea laughed. “I’m afraid not.”
Their gazes met and her mirth faded. Bridei was looking at her quietly, a solemn look upon his handsome face. It was the first time he had looked at her this way since their trip to the falls, and she tensed.
Please … not again.
“Come away from the fire for a short while, Hea,” he murmured. “I would speak to you.”
Hea’s pulse quickened. She did not want to be alone with him. “Can’t we talk here?” she replied. “No one will hear us.”
He held her gaze for a heartbeat before shaking his head. “I wish to have some privacy … and your full attention.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Truth
Hea followed Bridei to the edge of the woods, her heart pounding like the drums in the glen behind her. No one appeared to notice their departure. Whoops, shouts, and laughter rang over the wide clearing, and the music grew louder still.
Bridei did not lead her far, just out of sight into a thicket of pines. Out of the glow of the firelight, Hea noted that there was a waxing moon rising into the dark sky; it was not far off full now, for the month was almost at an end.
Turning to her, Bridei watched Hea approach. The silver light of the moon illuminated the chiseled plains of his face but cast his eyes into shadow. Hea stopped a couple of feet away from him and concentrated on steadying her breathing. Surely he could hear her thundering heart?
“What is it?”
He smiled, although the expression lacked his usual brash self-confidence. For the first time ever, Bridei mac Beli appeared unsure of himself. “I’m a coward,” he murmured. “I should have spoken before now.”
Hea tensed and folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to create a barrier between them. When she did not respond, Bridei continued.
“I was callous in Bebbanburg. I saw you, I wanted you, and I didn’t care what the consequences were. I’ll be honest; when I left you and set off north, I planned to put you behind me.” He broke off here, the words having rushed out of him. “Only … I couldn’t.”
Hea felt his gaze pin her to the spot, and wished she could see his eyes, to be able to read his expression better.
“Bridei,” she began softly, injecting a note of warning into her voice. “I don’t think—”
“Please let me finish.”
Hea clenched her jaw, before reluctantly nodding. “Go on then.”
He stepped forward, and in the coolness of the woods she felt the warmth of his body reach out to her. She inhaled the scent of him that had always been so exciting and yet comforting.
“I returned to Dundurn and readied myself for war … but all I could think of was you. I set off south, to draw Ecgfrith and his men into a net, but at each still moment you were there.” His words were quiet, powerful. Hea did not doubt the truth of them for a moment. Yet Bridei was not finished. “I could not forget you. You’d left a scar upon my soul.”
Hea stared at him. The noise from the revelry in the glen, although only a few yards distant, felt as if it was a world away. These were the words she had once dreamed of hearing, yet now they felt like a blow to the belly. She wished for him to finish there, but Bridei was not yet done. Now that he had begun to open his heart, he could not stop.
“The day of the battle, after we won, I felt empty. There I was, having achieved my life’s goal, but it was a hollow victory. When I saw you again shortly afterward, I have never known such joy. I realized then that there wouldn’t be room for another woman in my heart … that I love you and always will.”
Hea’s throat constricted. The urge to crumple to the ground and dissolve in tears crashed over her. The gods were cruel. What fun they must be having, sitting above watching her suffer.
She inhaled deeply, clenching her fists at her sides till her fingers bit painfully into her palms. “You would not say such things, if you knew the truth about me,” she finally managed.
Bridei frowned. He had clearly not expected such a reaction, especially after pouring out his soul. “I wish to know all of you,” he replied. “That’s what love is.”
Hysteria bubbled up within her. “Even if I told you that it was my fault Ecgfrith rode so recklessly into that valley?”
His gaze narrowed further. “How could it be? I set that trap for him.”
“Aye—but a few months earlier, I had a vision … and in it I saw your army defeated in that place. Many of Ecgfrith’s men questioned his dogged pursuit of you north; yet he ignored their advice. Because of me.”
Bridei folded his arms across his chest, his mouth quirking. “Then you have my thanks, Hea. I thought that victory was owing to my tactical skills. It seems I was wrong.”
Anger surged within her at his flippant response. “What if I also told you that the woman you say you love is the daughter of the man you despise?” Bridei flinched back, as if she had just struck him, but Hea pressed on. “That’s right, I’m Ecgfrith’s bastard. He was the man my mother threw her life away for—the reason she died young of bitterness and a broken heart.”
She stepped back from him, taking in the shock on his face. “I’m not so attractive now, am I?”
She turned and fled, making for the trees. However, she had only taken half a dozen strides when he caught her. Hea struggled as Bridei pulled her around to face him.
“How long have you known this?” he demanded.
She glared up at him, struggling in his iron grip. “Since just before the battle.”
“So Lewren kept it from you all these years—you never suspected?”
Hea shook her head, clenching her jaw. “No … now let me go.”
He did so, although he remained standing close to her, ready to grab her again should she try to run. She felt him studying her face, trying to absorb the news. His shock was evident. It was as she had suspected—this did change how he thought about her.
All those tender, passionate words … she had nearly believed him. Yet now that he knew she was Ecgfrith’s bastard, he would forget he even said them.
“My mother loved a king once,” she began, her voice low and angry, “and it brought her nothing but pain. I’ll not make the same mistake.”
He drew back, his face hardening. “I’m not Ecgfrith,” he replied, each word flat and hard. “Do you really think so little of me?”
“You’re a man—you take what you want, and use, while it serves you.”
A chill silence settled between them. “I care not who your father is. I only want you,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Her mouth twisted. “You say that now, but I saw your face before.”
“I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
“Don’t lie to me … I saw your disgust.”
He shook his head. “I would have loved you, have made you my queen … yet you throw it all back in my face.”
He stepped back from her, a chill draft breathing between them. “Very well … I’ll give you what you want. Go back to Bebbanburg, to your empty hovel and your new king. I’ll send an escort of men with you tomorrow.”
With that he turned and walked away, disappearing like a wraith into the trees.
Hea watched him go, her heart thundering. She had not wanted to hurt him, but had been so intent on protecting herself that she had done exactly th
at. The look on his face just a moment ago, would stay with her forever.
The strength went out of her legs, and she crumpled onto the bed of pine needles that covered the forest floor.
It’s for the best, she told herself as tears scalded her cheeks. I had to be blunt or he’d never understand.
But if that was the case, why did she feel as if her world was coming to an end?
Hea stayed there awhile, trying to control the sobs that convulsed her. She had thought she would never know misery greater than that when her mother died—but this felt even worse. Lewren had been gradually getting sicker for some time, and in the end her suffering had been terrible. There had been relief mingled with grief when she eventually died.
But right now her soul ached with misery.
Eventually, Hea stumbled to her feet. She needed to pull herself together. She had to be strong. Spending the night curled up on the forest floor, weeping, would do her no good.
Scrubbing at her burning, swollen eyes, she walked back toward the glen—toward the sounds of gaiety and music, and the golden glow of firelight. She emerged, blinking, her gaze sweeping over the crowd that moved around the base of the roaring fire.
Taking it all in—the energy, the laughter, and the unabashed enjoyment of one of the four ‘fire’ festivals that marked the Pictish calendar—Hea felt grief tighten its grip within her. She could fight it all she liked, but the truth was that she had fallen in love with these people and their way of life. She should have been born a Pict—despite that she was a foreigner here, she was already more accepted than she had ever been in Northumbria.
And now Bridei was sending her back.
She could not blame him. After everything she had said, he must want rid of her immediately. But the thought of leaving Dundurn, and the new life she had built for herself there, made panic swell within her. It hurt, almost as much as the pain she felt at losing Bridei forever—even if it had been by her own hand.
