I knew that I would be presented to Faolan and Andrina as a prize by my captors, and I had seen Sorcha riding with Faolan. Still, I'm not prepared for the rage that overcomes me at the sight of them. I square my shoulders, raise my head high, and clench my fists.
“Ilena!” Sorcha squeals in her excitement. “The chief of Dun Alyn herself!”
“Not chief anymore, we've heard,” Faolan says. “Not that it would matter. After we take Cameliard, Dun Alyn will be next, and Sorcha will be restored as the rightful chief.”
“At least I'm not a traitor to Britain!” I say as loudly as I can.
Andrina stands and looks out over the crowd. It is so quiet now that I can hear wood crackling in a nearby fire. “Welcome, friends,” she begins. “We have an unexpected guest—Ilena of Dun Alyn. Once chief of that fortress, till she failed to hold her place at Belert's sword side.”
There is a wave of conversation behind me.
Faolan is beside Andrina now, and when it's quiet again, he says, “A band of my scouts stumbled over Ilena near the Ford of Leven. She was alone—as befits a coward who has been forced out of her fortress.” He turns to Andrina. “Will you bring out that pet of yours? And the famous Dragon Chief? We have three captives now for the ceremonies tomorrow.”
Andrina's pet? Could it be Durant? Might he still be alive? My hopes rise—then crash as I realize I can't help him. The Dragon Chief, of course, is Arthur. Vorgel was right; he is a captive here. Andrina motions to someone in the crowd behind me, and four warriors come forward.
“Bring the prisoners here.”
My captors have moved back into the crowd, so I am standing alone now, but I make no effort to go anywhere. I want to be right here when Arthur and Durant come—if it is Durant. Escaping from this spot would do little good anyway. Even if I could get away from all these people, I'd still be trapped on an island.
Andrina leans over to talk with Faolan and Sorcha. I can't hear the conversation because the noise behind me has risen.
“Server! Over here!”
“Wine! Where are those wine carriers?”
“Bring more bread—and hurry with it.”
Jon must be back there somewhere with his wine jug. I wish that I dared turn around to see, but I don't want to call attention to myself and risk getting tied up or removed before the other prisoners are brought.
When I hear footsteps in the darkness behind the building, I try to prepare myself for whatever happens.
The first prisoner must be Arthur. I've not seen him before, but the tall young man with red hair who strides into view, defiant despite his bound arms, matches the bards' descriptions of the Dragon Chief.
I stare into the darkness behind him, willing away my desire to see Durant and praying that he is somewhere else— somewhere safe.
But it is Durant. He is not bound. His head droops, and he seems frail. He moves listlessly and appears to have little interest in his surroundings.
“Durant!” I close the distance between us in two quick steps.
He does not respond at first. Then he looks closely at me and his face changes. “Ilena!” His arms circle my body, and we embrace for a brief sweet moment.
Rough hands tear us apart. I'm wrestled into place beside Arthur, and Hana stands near me with his hand on his sword.
Durant is pushed to a spot on Arthur's other side.
Arthur looks from one of us to the other. “Courage, friends,” he says.
“Silence!” Andrina orders.
She looks out over the assembly. “Tomorrow the chiefs of Alcluith—Camilla, my sister, and Cedric, her Saxon husband—will lead us into battle. Only Cameliard stands between us and victory across the North. Dun Alyn, Dun Dreug, Dun Selig, and Glein will fall like ancient trees in a storm as we march northward. With Arthur our captive, his forces cannot hold against us.
“Tomorrow we will meet here again, and Ilena of Dun Alyn, Durant of Hadel, and Arthur himself, our captive since the last new moon, will die.” She pauses for a moment and cheering breaks out. When it quiets down, she continues. “The next day they will ride with us—their heads on our spears—to lead the way to our victory.”
A cold fear starts in my belly. So this is how it is to be—a sword stroke, and my head mounted on a lance to frighten my people! I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. If I'm to die, I will look courageous to the end.
“Take them away.” Andrina reaches over and pushes me.
As I catch myself, I turn and find Durant watching me with such intensity that it brings tears to my eyes. A Saxon warrior holds a spear in front of him to prevent any attempt to come to me.
“Wait!” Faolan grabs my arm. His face is red from too much wine, and he slurs his words. “This woman insulted me, as her father and her sister insulted me before.” He pulls his dirk from his belt and holds the blade against my cheek.
I stand very still, barely breathing, and try to keep my face expressionless.
Sorcha leans forward and says, “She killed my grandfather and forced me out of my home.”
Faolan taps my face with the blade. “I'll have your revenge, Sorcha. After tomorrow no one will dispute your place as chief of Dun Alyn.”
I press my lips together and force myself to keep still.
Arthur has moved from my side to a spot behind me. Now he tries to push himself between us. “Let her go, Faolan! She's no threat to you now.”
Andrina signals and two warriors leap forward to pull the Dragon Chief away from us. They shove him against the building and stay beside him.
There is little I can do with a knife to my face, but I'll gain nothing by submitting helplessly to whatever torture Faolan plans. When he lowers the knife and pulls me closer to him, I gather all my strength, twist my body, and slam my knee into his groin. As he doubles over in pain, the knife flies out of his grasp and clatters onto the hard ground.
He straightens, grabs me by the hair, and slaps me across the face. The blow is so hard that I cry out despite my resolve to remain quiet.
“Let her go!” The wild cry startles everyone into silence.
Durant slams the Saxon's spear aside, scoops up Faolan's dirk, and leaps onto his back. Before he can be pulled away, he clamps his arm around the wolf-man's neck, and stabs him over and over.
The two of them lurch back and forth and stumble against me. I fall to the ground and warm blood spurts over me as I twist and roll myself out from under their feet. When I lift my head, Sorcha is moving toward us.
She holds a sword high, waiting her chance.
“Durant!” I scream as loudly as I can. “Behind you— Sorcha!” But it's too late, and I cannot get up in time to stop her.
She plunges the blade into Durant's back.
Both men, locked in a deadly embrace, fall to the ground and roll toward me. With help from Andrina, Faolan staggers to his feet, though blood is pouring from wounds in his chest.
Durant quivers and jerks on the stony ground and then lies still with the sword protruding from his back. I crawl to him and call, “Durant. Durant,” but there is no response.
Chapter 14
I'm not sure how I make my way to the prison. My guards have a tight hold on my arms and carry or drag me when my legs give way. Tears are streaming down my face, and I can't wipe them away, nor do I want to.
Arthur and I are taken behind the buildings to an enclosure built against a steep cliff on what I think is the northern side of the island. There is a roofed room for guards; the two on duty are playing knucklebones when we enter.
One asks, “What happened to the other one?”
“You're rid of him, but here's a new one we picked up for you.”
Both guards stare at me for a moment, then turn back to their game. An opening at the back of the room leads to a narrow passage in the cliff. A few feet in, a space has been closed off with a wall made of bones and mortar. I can see enough by the flickering torchlight to recognize human bones, and I shudder.
Our
escorts pull open a door made of the same bone and mortar mix and shove us inside. After they leave with their torch, a glow from the guardroom shows through cracks in the door. The only sounds are the rattle of the game pieces and an occasional curse or laugh from one of the guards.
Arthur has slid to a sitting position on the floor, and I sit beside him. “What can we do?” I ask.
“I don't know,” he says.
“You're the Dragon Chief!” I say. “You must have some plan.”
He's silent for a moment, then says wearily, “I'm not a wizard, Ilena. I wish I were.”
I've tried to stop crying with no success and now the sobs come fast and hard. When I finally get some control over myself, I apologize. “I'm sorry, sir. I know you can't perform miracles. Losing Durant is more than I can bear.”
“He loved you so much,” Arthur says. “He was with us at Uxelodunum in the spring, before he left for Dun Alyn. All he could talk about was you.”
I start sobbing again.
He sighs. “I would have done anything to save him. Durant was my cousin and my closest friend. He has ridden at my sword side ever since we were old enough to go to battle.”
I've become accustomed to the dim light that creeps into the cell from the guardroom and can see Arthur leaning awkwardly against the wall. I realize that his arms are still bound, and that he looks terribly uncomfortable. “If you'd like, I'll try to untie you,” I say.
He twists so that I can reach his wrists. “That would be most welcome. I've been bound most of today.”
“How did you end up here?” I ask.
“They captured me not a half day's ride from my home; I had thought to have a bit of boar hunting before the muster to leave for Cameliard.” He sighs. “Alpin and Uisdean were with me. Gone now, both of them. An ambush—and probably the whole story about a great boar was part of it, though I'll never trace it back.”
I've managed to get one of the knots undone and move to a second one. “Was …” I don't even want to say his name for the pain it will bring, but I must know what happened to him. “… Durant here with you?”
“Aye.” He pauses. “The Walking Dead, they call them. Few know the herbs for that now, and fewer still will do that to a man. Andrina may be the last of her kind. He remembered some things, but wasn't sure about a lot.”
“If I had not cried out, he would be beside us now.”
“You gave him the greatest gift a warrior can have. I saw my old friend in the moment when he leaped on Faolan.”
“What gift?” I ask. “I caused his death!”
“You gave him life. The only life that matters to a warrior. The bards will sing of his brave attack on Faolan, and his son will hear stories of Durant as a hero. You and I will die as sacrifices before the battle tomorrow. Our heads will grieve our friends, but no one will sing of our brave deeds as we died.”
I release the second knot and pull the thongs from his wrists.
“Ahhh.” He moves away from me, and I can see his arms swinging slowly back and forth. “Now I can get some rest.”
“I don't know what help it will be to feel rested tomorrow.”
“No.” His laugh has a bitter edge. “It makes no difference, I'm sure. But still one always hopes. My war bands have certainly been searching for me. I've tried this door, but it's barred on the outside, and we're never without guards.”
“I don't suppose we could get off the fortress even if we got out of here,” I say.
“Well, no, probably not. But we are near the north entrance here, and it's not as busy as the south one. I'd try for sure.”
“Vorgel said you must be on Alcluith.”
“Vorgel? Vorgel is on the mainland?”
“She came through the Vale of Enfert four days ago on her way to mobilize the northern fortresses. She sent me here to gather information and bring it to a rendezvous at the Ford of Leven.”
“When will she be there?”
I think for a moment. The past few hours seem an eternity, though I know that I left Eogan only a short time ago. “Today sometime—it is surely past midnight—she and others will wait for me and my companion at the ford.”
“Your companion?”
“Eogan of Enfert. A lad who thought it good to pledge his loyalty to me.” I can hear the despair in my voice.
“We are chiefs, Ilena; leading people is our duty, just as dying with courage will be our duty tomorrow.”
There is a commotion in the guardroom. One of the guards demands, “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I was told to bring wine to the guards. Do you want it?” It's Jon!
“Who told you? No one ever sent us wine before. A bit of ale, and watered already at that, but wine?”
“Leave it here,” the other guard says. “We deserve our share.”
“And if we're found tomorrow with a jar?” the first guard asks.
“I'll come back for it,” Jon says. “It's worth my life to lose one, empty or full.”
He must know I'm here!
“It's Jon,” I whisper to Arthur. “My old friend from Enfert. I saw him earlier as they brought me in. He and the men of Enfert were carried off as slaves over a month ago.”
“Perhaps there is hope,” Arthur says.
The two of us sit in silence, straining to hear what is happening in the guardroom.
The only sounds are the knucklebones clanking as they're shaken and an occasional gurgling of liquid from a narrow-necked jar. Finally even those cease, and I can hear snores.
I'm starting to doze off myself when light from a small torch gleams in the passage, and Jon stands outside the bone and mortar wall.
“Can you hold this door steady while I pull off the bars?” he asks. “I don't want to make too much noise, though I think those two will sleep till tomorrow with no trouble.” He settles the torch into a wall holder just across from the cell.
Arthur is ahead of me and braces the door in place while Jon lifts the two bars and places them on the floor of the passage. The men lift the door and prop it against the wall inside the cell.
Jon turns to Arthur. “You're the one they call the Dragon Chief?” he asks.
Arthur nods. “Aye, that's one thing I'm called.”
“I've come for Ilena. The others are waiting with a boat.” He looks at me. “He's to come too, I suppose?”
“Yes,” I say. “We need him; Britain needs him. Are all of you from Enfert here?”
“No,” he says. “Just Nol, Craig, and I. The others are at a place called Dun Lachan.”
I nod. “We thought so.”
“How did you know anything about it?”
“I've been at Enfert the past month.”
“You have? How are they?”
“Well,” I say. “Planting is done. Slave raiders came, but your mother, Kenna, and the others chased them away.”
I can see his amazed expression even in this dim light.
Arthur interrupts. “Are we getting out of here, Jon?”
“Yes, sir. We hope so.” Jon disappears into the guardroom and comes back with a bundle. “You'll need these. Too many people have seen you.” He tosses me a filthy rag that turns out to be a woman's tunic. “And here.” He adds another rag. “Cover your hair and part of your face with this.”
Arthur accepts the scraps of clothing that Jon gives him and begins pulling them on.
Jon swipes his hand through the thick layer of soot behind the torch and rubs it into Arthur's hair. “You still look like one from the South.” He reaches over to the bottom of the tunic I'm wearing and tears a strip off. “Try this.” He binds the rag around Arthur's head and down across one eye. “That covers more of it. And stoop if you can. You're far too tall for a slave.”
Arthur grins. I think he enjoys following Jon's orders. “And just what is your plan, Jon of Enfert?”
“You'll each carry a jar. Keep it on the shoulder closest to the crowd and look down at your feet all the time. If anyone asks for wi
ne, say you'll be back directly with fresh—that your jar is empty.”
“Do you have a way off this island?” Arthur asks.
“Two friends and I plan to take a boat at high tide. I've convinced them to take the two of you; they know Ilena, of course, and I said you were the Dragon Chief who might rid us of these Saxons if we could save you also.”
“Good plan. And the only one that might succeed. You've worked with the boats before?”
“A bit,” Jon says. “I hope we can row free of the tide on Clota and get into Leven.”
“You'll have to,” Arthur says. “East on Clota is all Saxon camps for as far as the tide goes.”
One guard is sprawled across the table, his head resting beside a pair of knucklebones; the other lies curled up on a pile of straw. We step over the man on the floor and inch carefully around the one at the table.
Jon carries the torch, and Arthur lifts the jar to his shoulder. Wine slushes inside as he positions it, and he tilts the jar mouth upward. When we get outside, Jon points to another jar beside the door. “Ilena, carry that one. And both of you, listen well. We must separate; three together may attract notice. Can you find your way to the boats?”
“Straight down the path?” Arthur asks.
“Aye,” Jon says. “Keep going down, and you'll get there. The jars go into a shed just beside the building where the guards stay. The boat will be at the end of the shed, but we'll only wait a few minutes. It is dangerous, and we must leave as the tide comes in to get safely away.”
Arthur nods, and I heft the empty jar onto my shoulder. The three of us hurry along the path, and by the time I come out in front of the rectangular building, Jon is out of sight and Arthur is far ahead of me. I pause to look at the empty space in front of the bench and wonder where they've taken Durant's body—then I swallow hard and move on quickly.
The fires have died down to low mounds of glowing coals. Most people seem to have retreated into whatever shelter is provided on this crowded island, but here and there a small group lingers in the near-darkness. Occasional bundles on the ground mark folk who've fallen asleep outside.
I lose sight of Arthur's tall figure almost at once as I scurry along, close to the rock wall on my right, while keeping the jar on my left shoulder so that it hides my face.
Lady Ilena Page 12