She wandered slowly through the crowd, aimlessly at first. The whole atmosphere felt a little magical, with the firelight and the music and the palpable energy of the joy of life all around her. It was all making her feel so…alive, in a way she never had in her previous reality. And so very guilty.
What right did she have to be enjoying herself even a tiny bit when Gram and Nathan were home worrying about her? And yet this was the bold and shameless enjoyment of being alive that she had always remembered in a long-overlooked corner of her mind, like a fragment of a past existence that wouldn’t quite come into focus. It spoke to her soul in a language she had long forgotten. In a language that perhaps the entire modern world had forgotten.
As she passed by a huge barrel, someone handed her a carved wooden mug. She lifted it to her nose, taking in a whiff of fermented grain. Ale? She took a sip. It was smooth and slightly bubbly and tasted of wheat and some sort of berry. She drank some more, wanting to have what everyone else in the room seemed to have: the freedom to lose themselves in music and dancing and pleasure. She was so tired of fear and sorrow and guilt. Maybe she could lay down her burden for just one night. She could always pick it back up again in the morning. When Veda spotted her and tugged insistently at her arm, she was more than willing to join in the dancing. There didn’t seem to be any organized steps, just moving to the complex, pounding drum beats.
After a while, she tossed her hands up over her head and rolled her hips, breathless, laughing with Veda, and feeling just a little bit like the goddess she had claimed not to be. When the crowd happened to part in front of her, her eyes fell on Bridei, seated in a huge, heavily carved wooden chair at one side of the room. A sort of throne, she supposed. The seat of power. There were people all around him—most of them women—but his eyes were locked on her. Her heart picked up pace, too fast now for even the drums to keep up. The music faded, and the movement of the people all around her seemed to slow. For a moment she wondered if the ale had been too strong for her, but no…if she was honest, this sort of thing happened to her every time she looked at the King. It was just intensified by the wild and almost erotic atmosphere in the hall that night.
A gentle touch on her arm startled her and she spun around to look up at the face of a man. He wasn’t someone she had seen before, but he was quite handsome, and dressed in rich fabrics accentuated with the glitter of gold ornaments. He leaned closer so that she could hear him over the loud music and laughter.
“Dance with me?”
He took her hand before she could answer, sliding his other arm around her waist. Smiling down, he began to lead her gracefully through the crowd, until they had danced their way to a quieter spot near the door. A charmer, she thought to herself, smiling back at him in spite of herself.
“Do you have a name?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb, but keeping her hand in his.
“Nessa.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he stubbornly kept it. “Do you have a name?” she asked him.
“Brun, War Chief of Fidach. And I must say that I find you very beautiful.”
Nessa felt the heat of the blush that must be staining her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I am not the only one; the eyes of many men are on you tonight, lass. Please tell me you are not spoken for already.”
“No. I’m not…spoken for.” The words still felt like a lie, even though she would never see Nathan again. If she were home…
Brun leaned in closer to confide, “Even if you were, it would not matter. I would still try my best to steal you away.”
His lips hovered near her ear, and Nessa took a step back. He was making her a little bit uncomfortable. “I thought you wanted to dance.”
“Can I interest you in a walk outside instead?” The look in his eyes told her he wanted much more than just a walk.
“Umm…” She looked quickly around the room. “My friend is waiting for me…” She couldn’t find Veda, but her gaze did land on Bridei, and the look on his face made her gasp. It was murderous. Did he think she was telling secrets to Brun? Wait…weren’t the two of them on the same side? That made no sense…unless Brun was spying on her to see if she was spying on Bridei? But the men who followed her every move on a daily basis were still close by, she knew each of their faces by now like the back of her hand…
Namet seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Brun, the King requests a word with you.”
“What? Now?”
“Aye.”
Brun looked more than a little annoyed. “Until later, lass”, he told her with a smile and a lingering kiss on the back of her hand. “I will find you again, very soon.”
Oddly, for the rest of the evening, the King ‘requested a word’ with every single man that spoke to her for more than a passing moment. She wondered if he was quizzing them on what she said, or if he just didn’t trust her to speak to anyone at all. How was she supposed to start a new life, if she wasn’t allowed to talk to people? With a sigh, she helped herself to more ale, and went to find Veda.
Nessa found herself alone in Bridei’s private chamber the next morning. She vaguely remembered Namet escorting her up the stairs in the wee hours of the night, but she had had several helpings of the freely flowing ale, and her memory was a bit foggy. She had slept on the floor again, and the King’s bed was empty. She wondered where he had been sleeping since she’d arrived, and then decided that maybe she didn’t want to know after all. As attractive as she found him, he wasn’t hers. If he was sharing a woman’s bed, it was none of her business.
She wondered if she should go downstairs, or wait for someone to come for her. By the position of the sun outside the small window, it was at least late morning. She had quickly grown to hate being alone, because it meant her thoughts would turn to the fact that she was stranded in the past. Her brave thoughts of starting a new life here from the night before seemed to have evaporated in the light of day. Or perhaps it was only the spell of the music and the alcohol.
She tried the door, but it was locked from the outside. Turning around, her gaze fell on a large wooden trunk which rested against the stone wall. Somehow, she’d never really taken much notice of it, at least not since the first day. What was in there? Nothing dangerous, or Bridei wouldn’t have left her here alone with it. Her mind raced with possibilities, and she looked around furtively.
If the scrolls had really been handed down through generations at the bequest of Bridei as their family history had recorded, then he must have the original copies, she reasoned. And if she could find the ones about travelling through time, or the wrinkle in the blanket, or whatever, maybe—just maybe—she could figure it out. Probably not, unless there were very simple instructions in legible handwriting, but she really had nothing to lose. The originals would be in Latin, the only written language the Picts had used. Her Latin wasn’t very good, but she could understand the basics. Could the scrolls possibly be in that trunk? There was only one way to find out. She nearly ran across the room.
The trunk was locked, but the mechanism was so primitive that she had no problem picking it with a small and sturdy twig from the kindling pile near the hearth. When she was a child, she’d loved to break into abandoned buildings and explore, so she had become quite adept at opening old locks.
She carefully lifted the lid of the trunk, and the old iron hinges creaked. Her heart beat faster, and her hands trembled a little. She shouldn’t be doing this, but she had to know. If there was even the slightest chance that she could still get home, she had to try. She opened the lid until it rested against the wall, and looked down into the chest. The first thing she saw was a large woolen blanket dyed a bright red, and her heart sank a little. Maybe it was only a linen chest after all. She lifted the edge of the blanket. Was that—yes it was! Stacks of vellum. She lifted the top bundle from the trunk and spread it open on her lap. The first page was a list of names. She put it aside. What she needed had to have some math or at least some…
“What are you doing?�
�� His voice stopped her heart for two, possibly three long beats before it began thudding in her chest again.
“Um—looking for a blanket. I—I’m cold.”
His eyes dropped to her breasts, barely concealed under the thin fabric of the tunic she wore. She tried to will her nipples to stand at attention, but they of course refused to obey. “You don’t look cold to me.”
“I was left alone, no one was here…I needed…” Her voice quavered as she tried, and failed, to concoct a believable excuse. The vellum sheets were unbound and spread on the floor. She had quite obviously been searching for something. This didn’t look good for her.
“But I came back, little lamb. And that trunk was locked. Where did you get the key? How long have you been waiting for a chance to use it?”
At his words, the image of the bleeding lamb heads came rushing back, and she wondered if her own head would soon be in a similar situation. “I didn’t have a key, it just opened and…”
“You lie. I locked it myself.”
“I swear I didn’t have a key, I…”
Anger darkened his eyes like a storm, but his voice was deadly calm. “You are a spy after all. And to think I was beginning to believe otherwise. What were you hoping to discover? Battle plans? Did you really think I’d have them all laid out in ink for someone to find?”
She shook her head in earnest denial. “No, as I’ve been saying all along, I just want to go home.”
“Home?” He stalked closer to her. “Home to your Saxon Lord? Did he tell you not to return until you had something to bring to him? What will happen, little lamb, if you go home empty handed?”
Nessa remained silent. She had no way of defending herself. At least no way that was believable.
He grabbed her roughly by the wrist, pulling her behind him as he stalked out of the room and down the stairs. Namet looked up from his seat by the fire, his eyes widening in alarm at the King’s furious demeanor. He stood, knocking the stool to the ground behind him with a clatter. “What’s happened?”
“Where is Ecgfrith?” Bridei demanded.
“He’s camped near Arbroath, with about fifty men, collecting tributes from the chieftains.”
Bridei nodded. “Good. We will bring the lass to him, then watch the reunion. I will know once and for all who she really is.”
Sten stood from his chair with a smirk. “I’ll go with you. I have been waiting too long for you to come to your senses on this matter.”
“What do you mean to do?” Namet asked.
Bridei’s eyes were cold, his stance aggressive. “I must know for certain that she has betrayed me before I kill her. I will not risk angering the gods with any mistakes. There is only one way to find out.”
A single sob of breath burst from Nessa’s throat. Betrayed him? She hadn’t betrayed him. Or at least she hadn’t meant to. Somehow she just couldn’t manage to stay out of trouble in this time. And to think that such a short while ago she was considering settling down and building a new life…
It was a brutal ten-hour ride by horseback to reach Arbroath, but Bridei needed to see this done. Now. They left that afternoon, and he made Nessa ride with him. Partly to be sure she wouldn’t escape, and partly to punish himself yet again for his own foolishness. She remained silent the entire way, but the rocking motion of the horse brought her bottom against his groin again and again, and her intoxicating scent filled his nostrils, so that by the time they reached the forest near Argyll, he found himself almost wishing that someone would strike him down dead and end his misery.
Despite her apparent treachery, his attraction to her had not lessened. He even found himself coming up with possible excuses for her behavior during the long hours of travel. What if she was under threat of death from Ecgfrith? What if she hadn’t had a choice?
It didn’t matter though. He had to serve and protect his people above all else, and that meant ignoring his personal feelings about the lass.
It was near midnight when the lights of the Saxon camp came into view, and soon after, they heard the shouts of the guards announcing their arrival. Bridei drew up his horse at the edge of the trees.
“Brun, Egat, take her to Ecgfrith. Make certain he knows you come in peace; only to return the lass. I will be watching from the forest to see it done.”
As she was led away, Nessa turned and glanced back at him over her shoulder. What he saw in her eyes nearly stopped his breath. Terror. Had he been wrong about her? No, more likely she feared punishment for failing at her task. But in that moment, every instinct he had screamed at him to protect her; to take her into his arms and ride away into the night. He held strong though, bolstered by his pride and his duty. He resolutely looked away from the woman who had made him so weak, but would no more.
There were perhaps twenty tents in the encampment, some quite large, and some that would only hold a few men at most. Nessa was led towards the largest one, at the very center, and it glowed from within with a flickering light. She had had a very long time to think on the seemingly endless ride through the afternoon and much of the night, but she hadn’t come up with any way to get herself out of the mess she’d gotten into. No amount of pleading on her part would convince Bridei that she was anything other than his enemy, and now it would be up to her to save herself in any way she could.
As Brun and Egat led her away, she had glanced back over her shoulder at Bridei. In the tree-filtered moonlight, he sat tall and fierce on his stallion, his aggressive posture telling her she would have no mercy this time. Her heart clenched, and not only because she was walking into the unknown. There was something about him that called to her, and even in that moment, a part of her wanted to run back to him. Not for safety, but for another, far more complicated reason that she couldn’t quite make sense of.
After a brief exchange of words with the guards at the edge of the camp, they were escorted to the large tent. The flap was tied open, and inside she could see a group of men sitting around a make-shift table. On the table were pieces of parchment and piles of coins and other shiny golden objects. Now Nessa stood before the men, trembling like a frightened rabbit, trying to gather her wits. If she was going to have any sort of a chance to get out of this alive, she was going to need wits. She knew they were speaking English, but she only understood a few words here and there. More than 1300 years could make a language virtually unrecognizable. Her English would be just as foreign to them, but the Pictish that she knew had been passed down intact, without a large group of people speaking it and changing it over the years. So she used it now, addressing the man at the head of the table, that she assumed must be King Ecgfrith himself.
“Hello—um—you don’t know me, but I seem to be here by mistake, and I…”
His beady eyes flashed at her and he frowned. He said something in his own language that she didn’t understand, and she shook her head.
“You speak Pictish?” he asked.
She nodded, trying to swallow the knot in her throat.
A slow, unkind smile curled his thin lips. “And Bridei has sent you as his tribute?” He laughed, addressing Brun and Egat: “Tell your master that the price is higher than one useless woman. He owes me twice her weight in gold, at least.”
“She’s not a tribute…” Brun began, but Ecgfrith cut him off. “Leave, and tell Bridei to bring his tithe by the end of the full moon or I will bring my army down on all of the Picts south of Fortriu. I will not be trifled with.”
Nessa was horrified when Brun and Egat actually turned and ducked through the flap of the tent, leaving her alone with the Saxons. She looked back to Ecgfrith with eyes that she knew were wide and frightened. Her whole body trembled and her heart felt as if it was firmly lodged in her throat. She wondered vaguely what being frightened for her life so many times in one month might be doing to her mental health. “Please…Bridei only brought me here because he thought I was your spy, but I’m not. You know I’m not, obviously.”
Ecgfrith gave a little laugh. “You
lie. He would have killed any spy he discovered. He brought you here for another reason. If not as tribute, then perhaps to spy on me. Who knows?”
God, what she wouldn’t give for someone to actually believe her again! “No, I…”
“Kill her”, he said to the men beside him. “Have some fun with her first, if it pleases you.” Then he picked up the parchment he had been studying, dismissing her without another glance.
Never in her life had Nessa known what it was to be actually paralyzed with fear. Oh wait, actually she did. It had happened just last week. Still, she could only stare at King Ecgfrith as she was dragged away on her heels. What she wouldn’t give to be safely tied to the post in Bridei’s chamber again.
They took her to one of the smaller tents, and on the way there her survival instincts must have finally come online, because she started fighting for all she was worth, screaming and flailing and trying to bite anything and everything within reach of her mouth. It was no use. The men holding her were large and strong and they only laughed at her struggles. She had never before come face to face with such brutal cruelty.
Brun and Egat returned alone, and Bridei steeled himself against the hollow ache in his chest that felt as if it would swallow him whole.
“What happened?”
Both men had similar expressions of unease on their faces. “They didn’t seem to know her”, Brun said. “Ecgfrith said she wasn’t enough of a tribute and that you owe him twice her weight in gold.”
Born of Fire Page 14
