The White Mare: The Dalraida Trilogy, Book One (46 page)

She licked her lips. ‘The Great Glen is the quickest passage, for it splits Alba in two, and is the only way to cross the mountains to the east coast. A chain of lochs lies at its base, so a man can travel by boat and horse, and be there and back in around fifteen days.’

‘Good.’ Not noticing her disquiet, Eremon pulled himself into the saddle with his good arm. ‘Then, my lady, I will send my message with Aedan as soon as I can. And then I must be ready to pay a visit to this Calgacus. For a council of war!’ He yanked the reins and wheeled, whistling for Cù, and the hooves churned the mud as he raced away, until the sound was lost in the cry of the gulls.

Shaking, Rhiann leaned back on Liath’s steady flank.

Calgacus
was
the strongest king of Alba … and father of a man she had not seen for seven years – Drust, the tattoo artist, the dreamer.

Drust, whose long, fine fingers had smoothed her skin, and awakened
the fires that burned long before a raider ever laid his hands on her. Fires that were now cold ash.

And then she began to tremble, as the pattern of the Goddess was made clear. Wearing Rhiannon’s face, She had come to place Eremon’s feet on his chosen path. Yet in doing so, She would reunite Rhiann with Drust – for Rhiann had no intention of being left behind when Eremon went north.

Is Drust the man in my dream, Mother? Is that why you take me there? Am I worthy of him
?

Somehow, perhaps she and Drust were wrapped in Eremon’s fate, for it was plain to her now that the Erin prince must play a vital role in delivering Alba, not just saving the Epidii. Of course, Eremon was not in
her
dream, but it would take all of their efforts to accomplish such a task, and perhaps her own vision only showed the part that involved those close to her.

As she and Eithne crossed the marshes below Dunadd in the lengthening shadows, she told herself again that the man in the dream must indeed be Drust. He was the only man she had ever touched; the only one to be gentle and refined and noble. The only one to open the door to her desires. But she was not the girl Drust first met. Would he still feel for her, still want her?

Despite her fears, like the sun glimpsed through cloud, she suddenly sensed an echo of that desire: how it felt when her blood flowed hot and free, before the darkness came to twist and deform it.

Could a miracle happen? Could Drust awaken that in her again?

Chapter 44

E
remon chafed at having to seek the council’s approval once more, but the power of Declan’s vision turned many minds towards him, and Eremon’s fine words easily inflamed those who were undecided. And the success of his raid still carried him high in the hearts of the Epidii warriors, who trained with ever greater fervour on the river plain.

The raid had lit a fire in them that could not be put out now, and they fought and yelled, tussled and cursed, and ached to confront the Romans once more.

‘And this visit I pay is one step towards that glorious day,’ Eremon told them, from his customary perch on the chariot pole. ‘For with an alliance of all Alba’s tribes, we can beat them back to Britannia!’

It took most of another two days for Aedan’s pride at being chosen as messenger to conquer his fears of the northern tribes, but eventually, trembling and stiff in a new tunic and cloak, he was despatched with gifts, ten warriors, and his harp. Eremon knew that, despite his youth, Aedan would speak to Calgacus with words of beauty – and he wanted this king to know he was a prince, not some cattle-raider seeking bloodlust.

After that, Eremon wasted no time, and was everywhere at once, from dawn to dusk, training men, visiting the nobles, and strengthening the territorial defences, especially to the east. Scouts were continually going to and from the King’s Hall, as he briefed them about where he wanted watching posts, and how many, and who the scouts would report to in his absence.

Again, Eremon was leaving Finan in charge, although the old warrior did grumble this time, for the glory of Calgacus’s dun was being talked about among the men. But he knew his duty, and the Epidii elders respected him now that he’d bonded with them over many ale-soaked tales.

Eremon took Rhiann’s news that she was going with him with no flicker of resistance, merely grunting, ‘Good,’ before turning away to speak to one of his scouts.

So she and Eithne collected blankets and hide tents, and baked hard bread that would not spoil. Caitlin was under their feet all the time near the fire, steaming ash rods for a new set of arrows, and boiling glue for fletching – until Rhiann put her foot down over the pungent smell of birch tar, and Caitlin was removed to the King’s Hall.

Then Rhiann rode to see Linnet. ‘You will remember that Tiernan’s wife birthed her other babies early, won’t you, aunt? And that Neesa’s second son has twisted legs: they need massaging with this salve every day.’

‘I remember it all, child.’ Linnet was feeding her goats, and she put down the bucket of slops, her eyes twinkling. ‘I have been doing this a long time, you know.’

‘Forgive me!’ Rhiann shook her head, and scraped some of the mud from her boots against Linnet’s fence. ‘I feel as if my head is stuffed with hazelnuts, all rattling around!’

Linnet wiped her hands on her skirt. ‘Don’t worry, I will look after everything for you. It is too great a chance to miss. The great Calgacus came here as a young prince, long ago – we thought he would offer for your mother. But then he became king of his own people, and could not be tied to us.’ She sighed. ‘His totem is the eagle, and he has the look of that bird, very fine.’

‘Why, aunt, you sound like a blushing girl! I’m interested in his mind, not his face.’

Linnet laughed, and came to lean on the fence. ‘He has a fine mind, too. He will see what both you and Eremon see, Rhiann. He will see the sense of unity among our people.’

‘I hope so. The tribes have never joined before. But then, we have not faced this kind of threat before. Together, we will be stronger.’

‘Yes, but whether the warriors will see that, who knows? Women are better at discerning the patterns, for we are the weavers.’

Rhiann sighed. ‘I will do what I can, anyway, for the dreams tell me that I must.’ She frowned. ‘You will not mind moving down to Dunadd, will you, aunt? I know I ask a lot of you … ’

‘Of course not – especially since I won’t have to share the dun with Gelert.’

‘Why? Where is he going?’

Linnet’s eyebrows rose. ‘Don’t you know? Dercca’s sister told her that he is going with you.’

When Rhiann reported this to Eremon, he only shrugged. ‘Yes, I know. He said that he needs to speak with the northern druids on our behalf. And it would look better for us; the war leader is supposed to
have the full support of the chief druid. So long as he keeps out of my way, I don’t care. He can’t do us any harm.’

Privately, Rhiann thought that Gelert was anything but harmless. She had noticed, of late, that he was acting strangely. But he had stopped looking at her belly, and instead would hunch over into himself when he saw her. Perhaps, at last, he had turned his mind to other things.

Seventeen days after leaving, with the tension of waiting running high, Aedan returned, travel-worn, but with a new firmness in his face. ‘He received me,’ he announced to Eremon in the King’s Hall.

‘Well, and then what?’ Eremon demanded.

‘I gave him your message in your exact words … and a few of my own, of course.’ Aedan blushed, then drew himself up with great self-importance, throwing his mud-flecked cloak over his shoulder. ‘And this is his answer: Calgacus, son of Lierna, the Sword, King of the Caledonii, the Bronze Eagle, sends his greetings to Eremon, son of Ferdiad, prince of Dalriada, war leader of the Epidii, consort of the Ban Cré.’

Eremon raised one eyebrow.

‘Greetings, sword-brother,’ Aedan went on. ‘I would be honoured to entertain the slayer of Romans and destroyer of forts at the Dun of the Waves. We have matters of mutual interest to discuss. Come in one moon, and celebrate the longest day with us.’ Aedan’s stance relaxed. ‘That is all, lord. He fed and watered us well, and gave us fresh horses, and bid me seek you out with all speed.’

Eremon was smiling now. ‘So!’ he cried to his men. ‘We leave in two weeks!’

The hushed murmur of the river carried clearly through the night air. Inside the storehouse, the smell of new-turned wood mingled with the sharp scent of dyed wool. A shaft of moonlight caught the gleam of gold and bronze.

But Gelert had not come here to gloat over the Epidii riches. In the dark, his lip curled. Such worldly wealth meant little to him; it was nothing compared to the power of the spirit – or the power over men’s hearts, which made them do what you wished; made them turn to you in all things. That was what he wanted, and the brute strength of a warrior, the gilded words of a
prince
, were not going to stand in the way. He, Gelert, would command this world just as he commanded the Otherworld. And if one vessel had proved faulty, it was time to seek another.

Now he heard the jingle of a horse bridle, and glided, wraith-like, to the doorway. Under the old oak by the river, a dark shape moved. There was the soft thud of feet landing on moss, and then the shape slipped into the shadows of the storehouse walls.

‘You came then,’ Gelert murmured.

The man jerked, for the druid had been still. ‘I have no wish to labour under the son of Erin’s yoke.’ He pitched his voice low, but he could not hide the bitter tone. Gelert smiled to himself.

‘Lord Druid, as you ordered, my men are hidden in the hazel wood outside Crìanan. What do you want from me?’

‘I need a man of courage, to act as my messenger, my herald.’ Gelert paused. ‘To go to Erin.’

The hiss of breath was like a sword unsheathed. ‘Erin?’

‘The prince is not all he seems; I need to know his true position. The knowledge will give us power. Power over him.’

The shadow leaned forward eagerly. ‘And you need me to gain this power?’

Gelert smirked. They were so easy to manipulate, these swordsmen! But then, next time, he wanted a king who truly was a brute with a sword. He would not make the same mistake again.

‘It is a delicate – and possibly dangerous – mission. I need a man with the stoutest of hearts, and the most silver of tongues. A man who has no love for the prince of Erin.’

‘Then you have found your man. I can stay here no longer and watch our people turn to the foreigner – my bile curdles day by day. Charge me with this, and I will not disappoint you!’

Gelert drew out the moment, then said, ‘So be it.’

The man’s shoulders relaxed. ‘What are your orders?’

‘There is a boat waiting below the Dun of the Spears. The boatman knows the sea-lanes. Land in the northernmost part of Erin, and seek out news of the prince’s kin. But do not put yourselves in danger. If all is as he says, then present this to his father’s druid.’ He handed the man a short stave of ash, on which he had carved the sacred druid symbols. The man took it and tucked it carefully into his belt.

‘And if it is not?’

‘Then keep your heads down, and use the gifts I have left in the boat to buy as much news as you can. When you return, make all speed to join us at the dun of Calgacus the Sword. Tell no one you are leaving, and speak to no one when you return. Unless you die …’ he lingered over the word, ‘I want the message from your own lips – or I will call down the curses of all the gods on your family. Do you understand?’

The man’s breathing came fast and harsh. ‘Yes.’ He bowed his head, returned to his horse and levered himself into the saddle. ‘I will bring you what you seek.’

Gelert folded his hands in his robe, satisfied. Now he knew he had judged this man well.

As the rider left the shadow of the great oak and started down the
Trade Path, the moon swam out from behind a cloud, bleaching his hair to a cascade of silver.

Rhiann decided she could not risk taking Didius on the journey, for fear of what the Caledonii would do with a Roman in their midst. The only time she had seen him smile was when he was learning something new, so she brought him to Bran’s house.

The smith, a towering man with brawny shoulders, looked down at the Roman. ‘You wish me to guard him for you?’

Rhiann smiled and shook her head. ‘I wish you to take him as your guest. He works with his hands and his mind – you may use them both.’

Under his brows, singed by the forge to stubble, Bran’s blue eyes were speculative. ‘A Roman as an apprentice?’ His large, blistered hand, with ash-rimed nails, landed on Didius’s shoulder and ground the bones together. ‘He doesn’t have much muscle. How useful will he be?’

Didius flinched, but held his gaze bravely. ‘I can show you how to make water flow uphill.’ His accent covered the musical language of Alba in a heavy coating of harsher sounds, but he was understandable. Eithne had done well. ‘I can show you how to drain waste from your house.’

Bran’s eyebrows rose, then he smiled. ‘Perhaps you will be useful, then, Roman. But I am charged by the Ban Cré for your safety. Do not shame me by trying to escape.’