The Warrior and the Druidess (17 page)

Tanwen sat on a pelt, turned toward the hearth and rubbed the back of her neck. Though her growing belly put a strain on her body, her neck ached due to the strain of Calach’s changing view on fighting the Romans in a final battle. The hot-blooded chieftains had grown overly confident from the success of the raids, and they wanted to put a quick and final end to the war with Rome. After continually pushing their foolish idea of an all-out battle onto Calach, he finally nibbled at their bait.

The babe leapt within her. She slid her hand from her neck to her belly to feel its tiny foot push against her from the comfy womb.

She let out a sigh of pleasure as warm hands cupped her shoulders and nimble fingers kneaded her knotted flesh. “That feels good, Brude.” She leaned back into his broad, muscular chest as he continued the thorough massage.

“What fare are we to break our fast on this morn?” he asked.

“Oat cakes and honey.”

“Again,” he said with a rich chuckle.

“It is all I wish to eat in the morning.”

“The baby likes sweets.”

“I think so.” She let out a soft giggle. “What do you wish to eat?”

“Oat cakes and honey.”

“You are such a good husband.”

“Well now I like oat cakes and I like you.” He trailed whispery kisses down her neck.

Her flesh tingled as a blast of heat surged through her.

Slipping to her side, he placed one arm around her now relaxed shoulders as he gently patted her belly. “How is my son or daughter?”

“Lively. He’s been kicking all morning.”

“The babe wants to come out to play.” Brude placed his hand on her stomach and felt the soft bounce against his palm. “He’s strong.”

“Yes, but It is not yet time for him or her to burst forth. Our child will be inside me at least five more full moons.”

“It is for the best. Mayhaps my sire will come to his senses after the birth.”

“I am of like mind. If your father does not listen to reason, this little warrior will see its first battle against the Romans before it is even born.

“Tanwen you do not mean to fight in the battle pregnant?”

“If you go to battle, then so will I. I am Boudica’s granddaughter.”

“Tanwen, you cannot go to the battlefield while you carry my child.”

“I am not the first nor will I be the last woman to walk on a battlefield with a babe in her womb. Many Pict women fight while with child and I carry the full protection of the goddess with me for I carry the life she blesses within me.”

“There is no talking to you. You will listen to your own council before anyone else’s, even that of your loved ones.”

“Well, that is true. You know you cannot persuade me to change my mind once I have decided to do something.”

“And you speak of my sire’s foolishness.” Brude pulled her into the circle of his arms. He didn’t want to ever let her go. “I have a better chance of dissuading my sire from this plan of a final battle with the Romans than forbidding you to join the ranks of warriors with our child in your belly.”

Leaning her head up to his, she gazed into his eyes. “You are wise, my husband.”

He pressed his lips against hers. She shut her eyes and slipped her arms  around him as a soft warmth spread through her body from the slow, sultry kiss. She eased her mouth off his to take a breath.

“Brude, I hate to spoil the mood, but will you speak to Calach?”

“Yes. It will be worse in a few days.”

“Yes, for the chiefs will all gather here again for Beltane, as they did at Samhain.”

“They will begin arriving today.”

“I know, I have much work to do.”

"Well, I am preparing for the feast by hunting.”

“For boar?”

“Yes, join me.”

“I will.” A big smile spread across her face.

He stood and reached out his hands to help her up.

They each grabbed a long black spear from the wall where they hung. Arm in arm, they headed to the woods with her two guards and his friends following.

* * * * *

Drawing in a deep breath, Brude inhaled the lively, primeval scents of earth, ferns and sweet flowers. His gaze locked onto Tanwen’s lush breasts, which were fuller now that she was pregnant. His eyes swept down to the slight bulge in her tunic where the baby nestled in her womb. She had left off the belt she usually wore, and this was the only difference in her attire since she became pregnant. Even with a child within, she gracefully clutched a spear in her left hand. She looked so much like Boudica herself. She walked deep into the forest of densely rooted, towering trees. All the branches reached out against each other like a giant web of wood draped with thick canopies of leaves.

Brude bent down and untied the dog’s leash, freeing him to flush out a boar. Brude kept his gaze alert. He spotted a black creature emerging from behind a tree. The dog barked and shot off in a rapid chase. The boar darted into a copse, hidden from Brude's view until he could get closer. He and Gethin took off at a hard run behind the hound toward the small grove. Due to the distance, the dog had disappeared from Brude’s sight when he turned into the copse. The boar’s low-pitched grunts mingled with the dog’s howls. Brude leapt over a large, fallen tree as he rushed through the forest. Gethin had been keeping pace with him, but soon passed Brude, taking the lead. Brude heard Tanwen’s racing footfalls behind him. Even though pregnant, she ran nearly as fast as him. The barking dog stopped up ahead.

“They’ve got one,” Gethin yelled out.

Nearing the boar, Brude saw that the huge wolfhound had clamped it teeth on one of the boar’s hind legs, holding it for them. Thrashing its body this way and that, the boar fought to shake free from the dog’s clenching bite.

“Hold him, Colwyn. Good dog,” Brude yelled out to the shaggy wolfhound.

Gethin had almost reached the boar. As he closed in, the beast wrestled free from Colwyn’s teeth. Bristles covered its sagging belly. The beast's paltry worm of a tail pointed straight down. With a toss of his huge tusk, the beast veered toward Gethin. In a flash, the boar's tapered, pointed snout rammed forward. Its jagged ears lay back against its flat head. Thrusting its sharp tusk, it pierced through the warrior’s flesh. As the deadly tusk ripped through Gethin’s leg, his roar of pain thundered through the forest.

Blood burst out of the gash in his leg. The dog grabbed hold of the boar’s legs with its teeth again. The beast's high pitched squeals vibrated through the air. Brude ran up to the bristle-haired beast. He raised his long spear to slay the boar…but another spear flew at him. He leapt back.

The dog stood its ground with its teeth clamped on the wild beast holding it down. The spear hit its mark and impaled the thick hide of the squealing boar. It was still alive, though. Brude jabbed the boar’s rough hide with his spear for the kill. The boar's ear-splitting shrieks filled the air. Brude glanced up to see Nectan, the Smertae chief, walking forward.

Tanwen rushed up to them, panting from exertion. “Gethin, can you walk?”

“Yes,” her Silure guard and friend said through gritted teeth as he gazed down at his blood-soaked braies.

“We need to get back and tend to that wound.” She pulled off his belt and wrapped it around his wound to staunch the bleeding.

“I got him,” Nectan said smugly. “You did well too, Brude.”

“You took my kill,” he said.

“Well, we will share warrior honor. “ Nectan clasped Brude on the shoulder in friendship.

“How generous you are.” Brude didn’t feel friendly.

“We’ll both feast on the joint of the boar tonight for Beltane.” Nectan grinned.

“It is agreed. For Beltane, we shall share the champion portion.” Brude nodded as he thought, I will give you that but naught more
.

“But the head is mine.” Nectan placed his foot on the slain boar and drew his sword from its sheath. “I mean it as gift to your father.” Bending down, he plunged his sword into the beast’s neck, and sliced off its head. Blood gushed onto the ground. He picked up the bloody, severed head in his hands. “Soon, I shall bring Agricola’s head to him in the same way when we fight the great battle.”

Brude turned to Tanwen. “I have to talk to my father now.”

“I’m coming with you,” Tanwen said.

Brude nodded. “Good.” He reached out his arm to Gethin, who leaned on him and hobbled back with them.

With Tanwen at his heels, Brude pulled back the flap to his parents’ wheelhouse. “Greetings, mother.” He nodded at  Ciniatha, who handed a cup of ale to his father. “Greetings my chief,” he said as he entered the wheel house, then he sat on a fox pelt, facing Calach.

Tanwen nodded to  Ciniatha and Calach then eased down beside Brude.

“Hail, my son. Did you have good hunting?” Calach took a sip of ale.

“No. Someone took my kill.”

“Nectan. He has arrived for Beltane.” Tanwen let out a soft chuckle.

“He is an ally, though I dislike him as much as you do. Is he bringing the boar?” Calach asked.

Brude nodded. “It is trussed up and being carried here.”

“So it is, my chief. But there is more,” Tanwen said.

Ciniatha handed them each a cup of ale as they continued to discuss war tactics.

“Sire, he speaks of fighting a battle with the Romans.” Brude took a gulp of ale. “Do you deem it best?”

"You have talked to me of this. I ken you deem a battle is not the way to defeat the Romans, and you want skirmishes and raids instead.”

“They work, my chief,” Tanwen said. “A great battle would be won by the Romans. My grandmother Boudica fought a large battle, and it was her undoing.”

“It is not the way to win against Rome,” Brude agreed.

“This is Caledonia.” Calach gulped the last drops of ale in his cup.

“Father, you must harry the Romans with raids and not a full out battle.”

Calach shook his head. “The tribes are tired of fighting and then running away to hide in bogs and trees. The warriors want a great battle. They want to cover the land with Roman blood and to be done with Agricola once and for all.”

“The way to a victory over Agricola is not a battle on his terms.” Tanwen shook her head.

“If the Romans are to be stopped, it is up to us. We are the farthest shore they’ve come to.” Brude exuded a dynamic vitality as he spoke. “No one else has defeated them. We are on the right path with raids and tactics that they are not trained to fight against.”

Calach met his son’s gaze. “The other tribes want a quick revenge.”

“But they consider you as wise as you are brave, and they will listen to you.” Tanwen smiled.

Calach leaned closer to his son and his daughter by marriage. He peered deep into Tanwen’s eyes. “I have listened to the wise council of my druid and my son, but my allies seek a swift battle. I need to hear what the the gods have to say on this matter?”

Tanwen leaned back and took a deep breath. Her gaze latched onto the rising gray smoke from the cook fire. She lowered her eyes and fixed them upon the red flames. She clutched the cup of ale in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the brew onto the center fire. The flames shot up.

Tanwen chanted, “Fair Shining One, accept this sacrifice of strong ale. In turn, we ask for victory against our enemies the Romans. Great Belatucadros, what path shall we take in this war?”

Within the flames, a clear image of a serpent appeared. Before their eyes, it transformed into a boar. Then, at last, a hooded deity gazed back at them from the crackling fire.

“Belatucadros, Lover of Death, what say you?” Tanwen asked the god.

As she awaited the god’s response, a loud noise broke her concentration. She looked up as Nectan entered the wheelhouse, clutching the severed head of a boar in his arm.

“A gift my chief.” He handed the bloody head to Calach.

“My thanks.” Calach tried to hand it to Ciniatha.

“What am I to do with that?” Ciniatha asked with one hand planted on her hip.

Tanwen waved her hands at the chief’s wife to attract her attention.

Ciniatha got the hint and said, “Druidess we must offer this to the gods. I give it to you for a sacrifice to appease Belatucadros. As he answered your summons only to be interrupted.” She shifted her gaze upon the Smertae chief and scowled at him.

Tanwen grabbed the awful thing out of Calach’s hands. “My chief, I must speak to the god at his altar and perform a proper sacrifice to appease him. I will return with a message from the war god.”

As she stood, Brude did as well. “I’ll go with you.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “No. It is best that only druids conduct this ritual. I will get Lossio to accompany me to Belatucadros’ shrine in the woods.” She turned and, clutching the bloody boar head, she left the wheelhouse.

Brude turned to Nectan. “Chief, if we are to fight Romans we should sharpen our sword skills.”

Nectan grinned. “Are you asking me to spar with you?”

“That I am.” He placed his hands on his hips and waited for the Smertae chief to accept the challenge.

“So be it,” Nectan said with ease.

They walked to a pasture nearby where a heard of red, long haired cattle with their heads to the ground leisurely munched on the green grass.

Brude faced the Smertae chief. Glaring at Nectan, he gripped the smooth bronze hilt and drew his long sword from its sheath.

Nectan pulled out his whetted blade and slid his feet into a battle stance.

With his gaze locked on Nectan, Brude sidestepped to and fro, like a wolf stalking prey. Suddenly, he rushed forward and swung his sword.

Nectan blocked the blow. “I see your cattle are well.”

Brude laughed. “Yes, Tanwen will drive them between the Beltane fires on the morrow to purify them.” He kept his eyes on the Smertae chief. “And how are your cattle?” he asked and swiftly lunged.

Nectan warded off the blow with a quick back step. “They are fat off the spring grass. Those we slaughtered kept my tribe fed during the lean winter.”

Brude stepped back. "It is good.” He took one step forward and, with his gleaming blade raised, he charged.