Ruith led the ceremony, wrapping a length of plaid around their joined hands as she called upon each of the gods to protect and wish the couple well on their new journey. Then she asked them to repeat their promises to each other.
Lucrezia’s voice caught as she spoke the words slowly after the seer. “I, Lucrezia, daughter of Cesare Pontius, pledge to honor you, Tarl mac Muin, with my body, and my life.”
Once they had both made their promises, Ruith unwrapped the plaid ribbon joining them. Tarl pulled Lucrezia into his arms, kissing her deeply—much to the delight of the watching crowd.
Galan and Tea cheered. Lutrin, Cal, Namet, and Ru hooted and cat-called. Eithni and some of the other women wept. Even Donnel managed a smile.
Lucrezia drew back from the kiss, breathless, and gazed up into Tarl’s eyes. For a moment she had forgotten they had an audience. She had been so caught up in the ceremony that the world had shrunk to just her and Tarl.
He smiled down at her. “You’ll have to do as I say now … wife.”
She grinned back. “I think not … husband.”
The wedding party moved down the shore, to where men were now carving off slices of venison and heaping them onto platters. A long table had been set up with low benches to sit on. Barrels of wine and ale had been rolled down from the fort for the occasion.
Lucrezia took a seat at the head of the table, next to her husband. For once, the chieftain and his wife did not take this spot. This eve, she and Tarl were the center of attention.
Tea, whose belly was now huge, moved around the head of the table pouring wine for her kin, while other women served drinks at the opposite end. Pregnancy suited her. Tea’s skin glowed, and she wore a serene expression as she took a seat next to Galan.
“Are handfastings like this where you’re from, Luci?” Eithni, who was seated a few feet down from Lucrezia and Tarl, leaned forward, her hazel gaze bright with curiosity.
Lucrezia smiled. “Some things are similar, although we also have different traditions.”
Beside her, Tarl lifted an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“The bride wears a special belt around her waist, with a knot in it, which only her husband can undo.”
“Really?” Tea was watching her too. “What else?”
“The bride wears a ring upon the third finger of her left hand—to encourage love. She also has a locket, given to her at birth, which she must give to her father at the wedding, and never wear again.” Lucrezia glanced back at Tarl, her smile widening. “And then, on the wedding night, the man must carry his new wife over the threshold into their new home.”
“That’s a lot to remember,” Tarl replied with a snort. “How long do Roman weddings take? All night?”
Laughter reverberated around the table, but Lucrezia merely smiled. She thought back then to the day she had wedded Marcus. He had been handsome in full centurion regalia, a red cloak hanging from his broad shoulders. Lucrezia had worn a flowing blue gown with satin trim, and had wreathed flowers in her hair. They had wed in a temple near her parents’ villa, where a priest had blessed them. She had been happy that day … until the disappointment of her wedding night. The memory of her girlish delight, her excitement, gave her a pang now.
Many years had passed since that day. She was a woman now, not an innocent girl full of fragile dreams.
And yet she had never been as happy as this moment. She had passed through fire to reach this point, to be at peace with who she was and her place in the world. There had been times along the way when she had thought she could not go on, when life would beat her. But here she was, wedded to a man she adored. A man who had seen the best and the worst of her.
Conversation resumed around her, and the feasting and drinking began. Lucrezia took a sip of wine. It was bramble—rich and spicy—reminding her of the wine her father used to make. She wondered if he and her mother were still alive, or if they ever thought of her. Had they even heard about what had happened at Vindolanda?
“You look pensive.” Tarl’s voice drew her out of her reverie. “Is something amiss?”
She glanced over at him, noting the concern in his eyes. “No,” she replied. “I was just thinking on the past. I wedded Marcus nearly eight years ago now, and thought it would be for life. I would never wish him dead … but I’m so glad I found you.”
Tarl smiled, the worry on his face evaporating. “I know you come from another world. You must miss it sometimes.”
“I don’t really,” she replied honestly. “I did at first, when we came to Vindolanda—especially the weather—but these days it feels like that life belonged to someone else. I’m happier here than I ever was before.”
Tarl raised his cup to her, his smile widening. “And I intend to keep it that way.”
After the feast Tarl and Lucrezia shared a piece of honey oatcake. When Lucrezia asked him about the tradition, Tarl explained that it symbolized fertility and happiness between the couple.
He also told her about Galan and Tea’s wedding feast. “She licked the honey off his fingers,” Tarl said, with a wicked grin in his elder brother’s direction. “I thought he was going to take her then and there at the table,”
Lucrezia appeared delighted by the tale, casting an impressed look over at the chieftain and his wife. In response, Galan cast Tarl a quelling look, while Tea actually blushed.
The reveling went on long into the evening. Darkness fell late this time of year, but when the curtain of night finally drew across the sky, the folk of Dun Ringill lit fires along the shoreline and danced to music. Eithni had taken up position at the edge of the dancers, her fingers flying across the strings of her harp. She played a series of jaunty festive tunes, her face composed with concentration.
Lucrezia and Tarl danced awhile. He swung her around, her long dark hair flying behind her like a banner. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. He had never seen her look so radiant.
Finally, out of breath and gasping for something to quench their thirst, Tarl and Lucrezia stumbled away from the dancers. Galan and Tea were still sitting at the table; with Tea heavily pregnant, she did not feel up to dancing.
“We’re off to our furs,” Tarl announced, before picking up a cup of wine and taking a thirsty gulp.
Galan nodded, before raising his cup in a silent toast. Tea smiled and favored Lucrezia with a sly look. “We’ll see you both at noon tomorrow then?”
Lucrezia laughed, linking her arm through Tarl’s. “Aye—if we can manage to drag ourselves out that early.”
They left the celebration, their bare feet crunching over the fine pebbles of the beach, before they climbed the steps up to the fort. The village was deserted, save for a few warriors who were taking their turn at the watch outside the outer perimeter. When they entered the tower itself, there was no one around. A low fire burned in the great hearth, although they could still hear the music and celebrations upon the shore below.
Halfway across the floor toward their alcove, Tarl stopped and scooped Lucrezia up into his arms.
She squealed, caught by surprise. “What are you doing?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Following one of your traditions. I don’t have a ring to give you, but I can carry you across the threshold.”
She laughed and twisted toward him, her breasts jiggling against his chest, and wrapped her arms about his neck. “Dolt—if you’re going to do that, you should have carried me into the tower, not pick me up once we’re inside it.”
Tarl rolled his eyes. “An insignificant detail.” He grinned then, warmth spreading through him as he gazed down at his wife’s lovely radiant face. “I say it’s time we made a new tradition.”
The End
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BATTLE EAGLE is coming!
Ge
t ready for Book #3 in the series. As you might have guessed, this story is all about Donnel and Eithni: BATTLE EAGLE. Grief has turned him bitter and cruel—only a woman who is still healing from wounds of her own can heal him.
Yes … it’s going to be an emotional tale!
Read BATTLE EAGLE before anyone else!
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Historical Note
Although this novel is set back in the Dark Ages, a time we have only scant records of, the story hinges on a real historical event: the clash between the Picts and the Romans. The Great Conspiracy of 367 AD (also known as the Barbarian Conspiracy) is one of the most dramatic events in Romano-British history.
In the winter of 367 AD, a group of tribes north of the wall (the Picts, the Attacotti and the Scotti—and they may have even have had help from Saxons to the south) banded together and attacked Hadrian’s Wall. At this time, the Roman Empire was in turmoil and the garrison at the wall was weakened, and ready to fall.
At the beginning of the story, we spend some time at the ancient Roman fort (or castrum) of Vindolanda, just south of Hadrian's Wall. Located near the modern village of Bardon Mill, it guarded the Stanegate; the Roman road from the River Tyne to the Solway Firth. The heroine of this story, Lucrezia, is the wife of a high-ranking Roman garrison soldier living in the fort. These days, this fort is noted for the Vindolanda tablets. This is the site of some of the most important finds of military and private correspondence (written on wooden tablets) found anywhere in the Roman Empire.
Here are a few facts about Hadrian’s Wall to give some historical context:
• Hadrian's Wall was a stone barrier built to separate the Romans and the Pict tribes in Scotland.
• Hadrian's Wall was built on the orders of the Roman emperor Hadrian, who was born in Rome in AD 76.
• The Romans began building the wall in 122 AD. It was constructed by three legions of soldiers.
• It allowed Roman soldiers to control the movements of people coming into or leaving Roman Britain.
• Every Roman mile along the Wall there was a milecastle; a fortified gateway which allowed Roman soldiers to go on patrol to the north of Hadrian’s Wall and control other people passing through the Wall.
• During the building of the Wall, it was decided to add forts. There were 16 forts in total along the length of the Wall. These meant that even more Roman soldiers were based along the wall and the frontier was more effectively controlled.
• It was 117 kilometers (73 miles) long across the narrow neck of England, from the North Sea to the Irish Sea.
• The wall was eight to ten feet wide and fifteen feet high.
• It took about 14 years to complete Hadrian's Wall. The largest structure ever made by the Romans.
The culture, language, and religion of the Picts is one largely shrouded in mystery. Unlike my novels set in 7th Century Anglo-Saxon England, which is a reasonably well-documented period, researching 4th Century Isle of Skye proved to be a challenge. Pictish culture is largely an enigma to us. However, they did leave behind a number of fascinating stone ruins, standing stones, and artifacts, as well as a detailed collection of symbolic art.
I created the four tribes of The Winged Isle from Pictish animal symbols. This is not a far-fetched idea; many Iron and Bronze-age peoples identified themselves with animal symbols. The clans we identify with Scotland did not appear until a few centuries later.
Acknowledgements
As always, I’d like to thank my readers for their AMAZING support. I hope you’re enjoying this journey, following Galan, Tarl, and Donnel’s stories in Dark Ages Scotland!
I’d also like to thank Maria, fellow romance author and friend. It’s always great to be able to chat endlessly about storylines, characters, and writing inspiration, and not have the other person’s eyes glaze over!
Once again, my gratitude goes to RWNZ (Romance Writers of New Zealand). This is a truly supportive organization, full of authors who are only happy to help each other out.
And I’d like to thank my husband, Tim, who works as tirelessly on these books as I do. He has usually read each manuscript at least four times before it’s published. Really good constructive criticism can be hard to find … but he delivers it every time.
More works by Jayne Castel
HISTORICAL ROMANCE SET IN DARK AGES BRITAIN
THE KINGDOM OF THE EAST ANGLES
Prequel novella: Night Shadows
Book #1: Dark Under the Cover of Night
Book #2: Nightfall till Daybreak
Book #3: The Deepening Night
The Kingdom of the East Angles: The Complete Series
Click on the banner to find out more about this series.
Get Jayne's FREE Starter Library and read the prequel novella and Books #1 and #2 to her first series, THE KINGDOM OF THE EAST ANGLES: www.jaynecastel.com/home/sign-up
THE KINGDOM OF MERCIA
Book #1: The Breaking Dawn
Book #2: Darkest before Dawn
Book #3: Dawn of Wolves
Click on the banner below to find out more about this series.
THE KINGDOM OF NORTHUMBRIA
Book #1: The Whispering Wind
Book #2: Wind Song
Book #3: Lord of the North Wind (to be released in 2018)
Click on the banner below to find out more about this series.
HISTORICAL ROMANCE SET IN DARK AGES SCOTLAND
THE WARRIOR BROTHERS OF SKYE
Book #1: Blood Feud
Book #2 Barbarian Slave
EPIC FANTASY ROMANCE
LIGHT AND DARKNESS
Book #1: Ruled by Shadows
Book #2: The Lost Swallow (to be released in 2018)
About the Author
Award-winning author Jayne Castel writes Historical Romance set in Dark Ages Britain and Scotland, and Epic Fantasy Romance. Her vibrant characters, richly researched historical settings and action-packed adventure romance transport readers to forgotten times and imaginary worlds.
Jayne lives in New Zealand's South Island, although you can frequently find her in Europe and the UK researching her books! When she’s not writing, Jayne is reading (and re-reading) her favorite authors, learning French, cooking Italian, and taking her dog, Juno, for walks.
Jayne won the 2017 RWNZ Koru Award (Short, Sexy Category) for her novel, ITALIAN UNDERCOVER AFFAIR.
Get Jayne's FREE Starter Library and read the prequel novella and Books #1 and #2 to her first series, THE KINGDOM OF THE EAST ANGLES: http://www.jaynecastel.com/home/sign-up
Connect with Jayne online:
www.jaynecastel.com
Read Jayne's blog.
Facebook.
Twitter: @JayneCastel
Email: [email protected]
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