The Warrior and the Druidess (12 page)

* * * * *

The next morn, Tanwen watched as the Smertae chief, Nectan, rode out. Brude told her the Smertae got their name from smearing red blood over their bodies, specifically the blood of their enemies. The way he looked the cattle over as he rode past the Caledonii fields sent an alarm through her, so that when she felt another's presence, she jumped.

"Brude, it’s you.”

“Yes. I saw you were watching Nectan.”

“He eyes the cattle as if they belong to him.”

“It is the season for cattle raids. He will be back to try to take them.”

“I think it is so.” She paused, noticing that the idea didn’t alarm Brude. He’d probably participated in many cattle raids himself. Some of the vast heard of Caledonii cattle may well have once belonged to other tribes. “He did not drink the blood oath.”

“He does not want to fight under my father as war leader. He said that he alone will lead his people into battle.”

“The fool,” Tanwen said with scorn. “Were he and his tribe the reason Calach called that private war counsel last night?”

“Yes.”

She didn’t believe him. The war counsel was an excuse to get away from her. But it wasn’t going to be that easy. She’d see to it. “Did you come up with a way to get him to join us in fighting the Romans?”

“No.”

“Did you come up with a way to stop him from raiding your cattle?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Nectan. He won’t take our cattle.”

“He and his men are accomplished warriors.”

“So am I, and so are my warriors.”

“This is true.”

“You are gazing at him a long time.”

“He concerns me.”

“I noticed you have toe rings in the style of Caledonian men and women.”

“Yes. They were a gift.”

“From one of the chiefs, no doubt.”

“Did you want to praise the generosity of the giver on my behalf?”

“No.”

“Then for what reason do you ask?”

“I suppose Nectan gave them to you.”‘

“No. He gave me no gifts. He just seemed to scowl a lot, at me and everyone else.”

“It is the Smertae way.” Brude paused. “Who gave you the rings, then?”

“They were a gift from your mother, Ciniatha.”

“My mother is known for her generosity, as befits the wife of the chief of the Caledonii.”

“This is true. She reminds me of my own mother and my foster mother, Sulwen.” Tanwen wondered if he was jealous.
That is a good sign. He thought Nectan had given me the toe rings, and this made him angry. I should bait him a bit to show him I know he’s jealous.
“The people of Caledonia are most generous. Many chiefs have bestowed gifts on me.”

“As it should be. You are a druid, and the granddaughter of Boudica. Did you not know we follow the laws of hospitality as well as any of the tribes in Britannia? ”

She smoothed her hair with her fingers. “It is odd that I have not received a gift from you.”

“I will have to remedy it.” His even, white teeth shown as he flashed a wry smile. “I would not have you telling others that Calach‘s son is not generous and hospitable.”

“I would not say that, not precisely.”

“Yes. Well I am off to seek a gift for you.” Brude brushed his lips across her cheek in a butterfly kiss. He flashed a bright smile. “I’ve been meaning to give you one. I should have done so sooner.”  He slowly stepped away from her turned and walked toward the Jewelry maker’s wheelhouse.

Filled with a warm, bottomless joy, Tanwen smiled. Her ancestor, Boudica, would

be pleased. The chiefs had united against Rome, and she vowed to unite with

Brude in marriage as Boudica bid. In truth, wedding him had become Tanwen’s

deepest desire.

Tanwen’s eyes flew open. Her heart raced and she pulled the tartan cover tight around her as she lay on her pallet. She shivered with cold. A loud roar outside drew her attention. It was the wind. The weather had changed. It must have affected the nightmare she’d just awoken from. She sighed. This time it wasn’t a memory, but a portent of things to come. In her dream, it was winter here in the Caledonii village. Skinny children cried out with hunger pangs. She spent all day going from child to child trying to heal them of the sicknesses that come with starvation. The mothers shook their heads saying, “There's no beef. “

What did it foretell? Would a disease kill the tribe’s cattle? She’d look at the stock first thing in the morning. Tanwen laid her head back down then shot up into a sitting position. Unable to sleep, she’d have to look at the cattle now.

Tanwen rose, pulled on a tunic, wrapped a plaid skirt around her waist, and fastened her woolen cloak with a large round brooch pin. As she headed down the moonlit trail to the cattle pen, sounds of croaking frogs and chirping crickets filled the night air.

She grew alert at the unexpected sound of horse’s hooves. As the chill wind whipped her hair around her face, she watched men ride into the village and rein in at the pasture. The cattle. It was a raid. Without beef for winter, the Caladonii could die from starvation. These were her people now. She had to alert Brude.

From deep in her gut she screeched the Ordovices battle cry into the wailing wind. They heard her, and warriors poured out of stone wheelhouses with spears and long swords drawn. She pulled her cloak tighter against the bite of the icy wind.

The raiders shouted protest about leaving the cattle behind, but one of them, a man with a deep, gruff voice shouted over the wind, “We have something better.”

A rider was upon her before she knew it. He draped a cloak over her head and wound a rope around it. She was trapped.  All was dark. With her face covered and her voice muffled, she couldn’t see or cry out. She was thrown over the saddle like a bag of oats, and the man rode off with his prize.

Unable to see, Tanwen’s stomach jolted as she bounced on the galloping horse as the rider gripped her tightly. Though she kept struggling, she couldn’t break loose. The hand clutching her tightened its grip so she wouldn’t fall off. In addition to the rage knotting inside her, nausea overcame her. She quivered from both her queasy stomach and from the cold, riding at a gallop in the icy wind.

Panic rioted within her. What were they going to do with her? Would they sell her to the Romans? Did some minor chief mean to force a marriage so he could wed the granddaughter of Boudica? Would they hurt her? Unable to do anything now, she kept her composure. Once they untied her, she’d tear that cloth off her head and she’d escape. She’d have her chance as soon as they arrived at whatever tribal village they were headed to.

* * * * *

“Where is Tanwen?” Brude bellowed above the blustering wind at Huctia and Gethin.

“It was she who yelled out the Ordovices’ war cry,” Gethin said clutching a sword in his hand.

“Where were you two? You came all the way from Britannia to guard her.” Brude wheeled around facing his own men. “Where were my guards? Why was the druidess the only one who alerted us of a cattle raid? And so close to winter.”

“We must find Tanwen and rescue her from the Smertae,” Huctia said.

“Are we sure it was the Smertae who took her?” Brude took a deep breath.

“Yes,” one of his men spoke up. “I recognized Nectan. He grabbed the druidess and rode off with her flung over his lap.”

“The beast,” Huctia snapped.

“I will save her,” Brude swore. At that moment, tiny white specks swirled thought the air. As he drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders, a chill filled Brude’s insides as guilt gripped him. He should have protected her. How did this happen? He couldn’t fault the Smertae for raiding their cattle, but to attack a druidess? Even worse, to take Boudica’s granddaughter? Nectan must be addled. “If they have hurt her in any way, it will be war.”

What he had to do now was get her back home. The village had become her home. He thought of her as part of the tribe now. They needed a druidess. The needed her. He needed her too. But she deserved better than him. She deserved a husband who would protect her.

“They will want to trade her, to hold her as hostage for ransom,” Gethin said as his cloak flapped against him in the wind and tiny white flakes sprinkled his long hair and mustache.

“What will they want in return?” Huctia asked as she gazed with an empty expression at the night sky and the icy bits of snow falling down.

“What they came for and didn’t get.” Brude inhaled slowly. “Our cattle.” He flew through the village and stormed into his father’s wheelhouse. Some of his men had come first and were sitting by the chief’s bedside speaking to him.

Sitting up in bed, Calach called out to Brude, “The brutes took the druidess?”

“Yes, I am going to take our best men and ride after them.”

Calach grunted. “Is that noise the wind?”

“Yes.” Brude shrugged. “It’s wailing and an early snow flurry has begun but I care not of that. We have to save Tanwen.”

“You won’t help the druidess by riding through a snow storm and endangering our best men and yourself, my only heir.” The chief rose and poured a cup of mead. “Nectan won’t harm her. He took her to guarantee that he’ll get the cattle he wants.”

“What if he deems the granddaughter of Boudica is a better prize than our cattle?”

“If you mean he keeps her and weds her, I
ken
you would pleased. You don’t wish to marry her.”

“I never said that.” Brude shook his head.

“Yes, you did.” Calach bobbed his head. “Many times.” He rolled his eyes.

“Tanwen is my betrothed. We must save her.” Energy pulsed through Brude. He had to find Tanwen now. He didn’t have time to discuss all this with his father.

“Betrothal?”

“Yes, I agreed to wed her at Samhain in two moons.” Brude had come to care about her. He couldn’t say it now, but he loved her. He gazed intently into his father’s eyes. “I need to bring her back.”

“Wait until morning, my son.”

“I must ride now. What if they harm her?” Brude had to get out of here, leap on his horse, ride hard and fast, and bring Tanwen back.

“I do not think they will, son. But if they do, you will war with the Smertae.” Calach leaned back.

“If he dares to touch her, I swear, I’ll chop off Nectan’s head with my sword, dip it in cedar oil and tie it around my horse’s neck.”

“You must do what you must do.
”
Calach swallowed a swig of ale.

Brude stormed out of the wheelhouse and stamped off to the stables. After mounting his horse he dug his heels into its flanks and rode at a hard gallop in the snow storm. His head spun with thoughts.
Boudica, sent her granddaughter into my keeping, and I let the Smears steal away with her. But I’ll have her home soon
.
Home? I mean here. Her home is here, isn’t it? After all she is going to be my wife.
He felt a tinge of pride at the thought.

The wind pulled at him and flakes of icy snow bit into his skin, but he drove on barely noticing it. He finally realized that he no longer heard his men yelling behind him and that  he was rode too fast and too recklessly for them to keep up. He realized he now rode alone.

* * * * *

Tanwen’s insides turned somersaults from hanging upside down for the hard ride. Once the horse came to a stop, she was pulled off and set on her feet. They untied the cloak they’d draped over her head and yanked it off.

Now she could see the man that took her. Tanwen glared at Nectan. Words exploded from her boiling rage. “You dare to harm a druid. I will see you destroyed for this.”

“I have brought no harm to you, Bright One. I spirited you away on my finest horse and offer you my own wheelhouse for your stay with us. You will be afforded full hospitality, every courtesy due a sacred oak seer.”

“You grabbed me and terrified me by flinging a cloth over my head and tying it, binding my hands and throwing me over the horse like I was nothing more than a leather skin of ale. Then, riding at a hard, reckless pace, you endangered me. I see no good in that.” Tanwen crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do you hold me hostage?”

“I will answer that.” Nectan nodded. “But first the laws of hospitality demand that I offer you food and drink.” He motioned to her to sit down and a woman handed her a cup of ale as another served her a plate of boiled pork.

Her stomach craved food and her jittery nerves cried out for ale. She gulped down the heady brew and bit into the thick, juicy meat. As her hunger faded and her stomach felt heavy, she sat her ale cup down and gazed at Nectan. “Why did you steal me away? What do you want with me?"

“The raid was cut to an end before I could take any of the herd, therefore I hold your freedom as the price of the cattle we need.”

“Are you addled? You bring the wrath of the gods down on your tribe for holding a druid captive.”

“No, I will not let my people starve.” He lifted his chin and met her gaze straight on. “Our crops failed and the few cattle we have are scrawny. We need meat for the winter. The gods will not wrong me for doing what I must to save my tribe.”

She tossed her head. “You fool! Why did you not speak to me or Lossio?” She slid both hands onto her hips. “As druids, we would have had Chief Calach and the other tribes share food with you. We want unity with all the tribes so we can stop the Romans. They would have freely given your people meat and any other food that could be spared.”

“I am a Smertae Warrior Chief. I do not beg druids for favors when I can see a way to give my tribe what it needs myself.”

Tanwen sighed. She’d been taken hostage by a man with sparse reasoning abilities. Yes, he was a chief, but she was a druid, and he would listen to her. “Free me now, and give me your best horse to ride back to the Caledonia village, or I will release the wrath of the gods on you. Your crops will fail and your cattle will be scrawny for the next ten by ten turns of the years. Release me now, and save your people from extinction.”

“Enough of this talk, Bright One.” Though he steeled his fear, Tanwen could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He walked out of his wheelhouse into the snow, hastily leaving her with the women.