The Beauty of Destruction

by Gavin G. Smith

  ‘There’s flat ground further to the west,’ Britha pointed out.

  ‘Bress will not fight us in open battle. He is not like other warriors; he seems only to do that which will bring him victory, no matter if it’s the right thing or not,’ Tangwen said. She glanced over at Britha. ‘But you would know that better than me.’ Britha suppressed the urge to flinch, as if the younger woman had slapped her. ‘He will fight from the fort on the Mother Hill, or in Annwn itself. There’s not much reason for him to leave Oeth.’

  The first snowflakes drifted down out of a darkening, pregnant sky. Tangwen looked up at the older woman.

  ‘Are you still a dryw?’ she asked, and then glanced down at Britha’s stomach.

  ‘As much as Bladud is a rhi,’ Britha said, angry despite herself. Once she would have castigated Tangwen but she understood why the other woman had asked the question. And still dryw enough to be asked to conduct a wedding ritual, she thought. Though she had been the second that Bladud had asked. Guidgen had refused. There was only so much humiliation that he would put up with.

  ‘I have not forgotten what I swore to you,’ Tangwen said after a while. Her voice had softened. Her words reminded Britha of another moment of weakness, of Tangwen telling her that she would help Britha on her impossible task: to steal back her never-seen daughter from the Otherworld. Britha wanted to release the young warrior from her oath. She wanted to destroy the false hope of ever seeing her daughter again. Instead she said nothing.

  ‘Let us go and find Anharad then,’ Tangwen said. She started to climb down off the outcrop. The air was filled with falling snow now.

  Tangwen felt the looks, and thanks to having drunk from the Red Chalice, could actually hear the mutters as they made their way through the camp. The warriors who had not fought with them against Andraste’s spawn looked too clean and well fed to her jaded eyes. She heard the words they called Britha. She knew they thought Tangwen too young and weak to hold onto such power as the Red Chalice. She knew she would have to kill some soon. Or Britha would. The ban draoi was pretending that she couldn’t hear them describe her as their enemy’s whore, but as her pregnancy became more obvious Tangwen knew that one of them would be stupid enough to say something. She did not wish to kill any more of the people that stood with her. Britha had no such qualms. So far the newcomers had been kept in line by those who had fought with them against the spawn of Andraste, those who had seen Tangwen fight and had seen the magics of the chalice unlocked. She still didn’t like the feeling of all those eyes on her as they made their way through the camp.

  They found Anharad close to the centre of camp. Bladud and the rest of the Brigante were conspicuous by their absence. A number of the new warriors were of the Trinovantes tribe and Anharad was well known to them. She was deep in conversation with the warrior who commanded their contingent. He looked young for the responsibility but the network of scars down one side of his otherwise handsome face, and the claw-like ruin of his left hand, told her he had seen battle.

  Mabon was nowhere to be seen but Caithna, the young girl from Britha’s tribe, was sitting on a barrel just outside the skin-and-branch shelter Bladud had made for his wife-to-be. The snow was coming down steadily now and sticking to any surface that wasn’t being churned up by heavy boots. Tangwen smiled at Caithna and the girl looked terrified. Even though Tangwen had cared for the little girl, Caithna had also seen her kill to maintain discipline, to keep more people alive, because she had to. The girl was considerably less afraid of Britha, despite her position as a dryw, her bizarre appearance, and her black robes. Caithna stood up and ran to Britha, peeking out at Tangwen from behind the dryw. Absently, Britha stroked the girl’s hair. Tangwen caught the unhappy look on Anharad’s face at Caithna’s actions. It was quickly replaced with a look of distaste.

  ‘I am no more pleased at this than you are,’ Britha said.

  ‘Then why did you agree?’ Anharad snapped. The highborn Trinovantes woman had no love for Britha.

  ‘It seemed churlish to refuse,’ Britha said.

  ‘That didn’t stop Guidgen from doing so,’ Anharad pointed out. Tangwen could see by the set of Britha’s mouth that the dryw was getting angry. ‘There will be dryw with the rest of the Trinovantes …’

  ‘Well, perhaps if Bladud wasn’t so quick to marry—’ Britha started.

  ‘Both of you be quiet!’ Tangwen said. Britha turned on Tangwen, her face like thunder. ‘I’m sorry, but if we are to spend the night together among the trees …’ Britha’s expression softened a little. Tangwen could practically feel the discomfort coming off the Trinovantes warleader in waves. She turned on him. ‘And why are you still here?’ she demanded. ‘Have you a cunt between your legs as well? Do you wish to walk among the trees and sacrifice to the gods for a virile young warrior to fill it?’

  ‘What? No!’ the man sputtered.

  ‘Perhaps you would be wed to Bladud and see yourself ploughed on the morn?’ Anharad demanded. The warrior went a red bright enough to make out in the fading light. She was surprised the snow in his moustache wasn’t turning to steam.

  Britha took a step towards him. ‘Or perhaps you seek to learn the magics of women?’ she asked in a low, dangerous voice. ‘Would you know of the power of the moonblood? Do you wish me to fetch my sickle so I can harvest the fruits between your legs that you may learn?’

  The warrior fled with as much dignity as he could manage. The three of them started laughing, and even Caithna managed a smile.

  ‘And the funny thing is Clust would not think twice about facing a Lochlannach shield wall on his own,’ Anharad said between gasps for breath. ‘Utterly fearless in battle.’

  ‘Unmanned by women’s words. It’s a wonder we ever get pregnant at all,’ Tangwen said without thinking. Anharad stopped laughing and her eyes went wide. Britha turned to stare at Tangwen, but then the ban draoi’s face cracked and she started laughing again.

  Relieved, Tangwen knew that the laughter could not heal the dislike the two women held for each other, but it might make the night that bit more tolerable.

  ‘Call this heather ale?’ Britha demanded, looking at one of the jugs they had taken with them into the woods. ‘I’ve pissed better than this!’

  ‘I’m not drinking that,’ Anharad said. There was more laughter from the three of them. They were now drunk enough that almost everything seemed funny.

  ‘My mouth hurts,’ Tangwen complained.

  ‘It’s because you haven’t laughed in so long,’ Britha said sombrely and then the mood was broken. The silence stretched out, becoming uncomfortable. Caithna was wrapped in fur and asleep in a bough of the tree they were sat by. They had made a fire in a root-lined bowl at the base of the tree. It was bitterly cold but not even Anharad, who had not drunk from the Red Chalice, seemed to be feeling it, though she too was wrapped heavily in fur. Some of which was so fine that Tangwen assumed it was a gift from her husband-to-be. The Trinovantes woman was also wearing a heavy wool dress that was obviously new, and a new ring, torc and headband of interlaced spun gold. All this, better food, the chance to bathe and groom, and not being harried by monsters across the land had revealed Anharad’s beauty despite her years.

  ‘Give me that,’ Anharad snatched the jug from Britha. For a moment Britha seemed confused as to where it had gone. ‘After all, I’m the one that needs to be drunk enough to get married in the morning.’

  ‘Aye, I just need to try and remember the ritual,’ Britha said. ‘I should do it in my own tongue. I mean, how would any of you know whether you were being wed or told how to make heather ale? I mean proper heather ale, not that shite.’ She nodded at the jug Anharad was drinking from.

  ‘Thought it was good,’ Tangwen said and then frowned. She wasn’t sure that the words she had used were what she had meant.

  Anharad lowered the jug and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘Aye,’ she said, and looked down.

  ‘Is this what you want?’ Britha asked. Tangwen loo
ked up. Suddenly everything was serious and Britha seemed oddly sober. ‘I’m supposed to … it’s one of the things I have to ask this night.’ Perhaps not that sober.

  ‘I …’ Anharad started. Then she took another long swig from the jug.

  ‘Can I get some of that?’ Tangwen slurred.

  ‘I had thought that my children, and my children’s children, would have been enough …’

  Anharad handed Tangwen the jug. Tangwen took a long swig from it and immediately regretted it.

  ‘Myself and Gwern believed we had made something. We had increased the fortunes of our tribe. Increased our village’s and our own standing among the Trinovantes. We had become wealthy. Our people had plenty, yet we had not become fat and lazy. Our warriors trained hard, they raided and practiced warfare, yet we never warred needlessly. We had brought up our daughters and sons well and they would continue the work we had done once we had seen our last sunrise. Then it was all taken away.’

  Anharad took the jug from Tangwen. The older woman’s face was wet with tears now. ‘And that’s the thing that galls me the most. I could accept if another tribe had done this to us, if the Iceni had attacked from the north.’

  Tangwen could hear the fervour in Anharad’s voice as she leaned forwards, the flames in the fire reflecting in her eyes.

  ‘We would have given them such a fight, but if they had won it would have been because they deserved it. There was no chance with the Lochlannach. They were good fighters but we could do nothing against their magic.’ Anharad was glaring at Britha. Britha reached down and took the jug from the other woman and took a long swig of it. ‘It’s over a child, isn’t it?’ said Anharad. ‘That’s why you betrayed us?’

  Britha turned to stare at Tangwen. Tangwen managed to feel absurdly guilty, despite not having said anything to Anharad.

  The Trinovantes woman nodded. ‘I would have betrayed all for my children, which is why you must know I’ll see you dead if you do anything that will harm us.’

  Britha stared at the other woman. ‘I have never seen her,’ she said quietly. ‘They took her before I had a chance to.’

  ‘Does anyone ever see the Horned God?’ Tangwen asked. ‘Let alone get ploughed by him on these nights?’ Many newborns were supposed to be the children of the Horned God. It was why on the night before the wedding the betrothed was accompanied by two others, ideally one of them being the dryw that would perform the marriage ritual.

  ‘I’ve seen some foolish lovers and husbands-to-be running around the woods naked with antlers strapped to their heads, but I’ve never seen the Horned God in all the years I have done this,’ Britha said, ‘Though my people try … tried to avoid the gods.’

  And with good reason. Other than her Father, all the gods Tangwen had encountered, in one way or another, had brought them nothing but ill.

  ‘You didn’t answer her question,’ Tangwen said to Anharad. She did not want to talk of gods. It would have her thinking about her Father again.

  Anharad wiped the tears from her cold skin and shivered under her furs.

  ‘There’s a reason weddings are for the summer,’ Britha said, not unkindly.

  ‘He has enough power and you hand him more,’ Tangwen said, sounding serious despite herself.

  ‘Has he not earned everything he has?’ Anharad snapped back, but Tangwen could hear the defensiveness in the older woman’s voice.

  ‘Aye, he has,’ Britha said. ‘Including his satire and casting out. He has taken oaths in the past not to wed, and he has broken those oaths. Why would he not do the same to you? He cares about the words of an oath only, not its meaning. Look what he did to Guidgen and the gwyllion.’

  ‘Have you never broken any oaths?’ Anharad asked. Britha opened her mouth to answer angrily but then closed it again. ‘Do you think he is an evil man? Or is it because he is not evil enough for you?’

  Britha bristled.

  ‘Enough, I beg you,’ Tangwen complained. ‘Anharad, Britha must ask you these questions.’

  ‘And the more honest you are, the more likely you will get what you want from your marriage,’ Britha said irritably. ‘Despite what you may think, we are not here to judge you.’

  ‘And yet you are no friends to Bladud,’ Anharad pointed out.

  ‘I like him well enough,’ Britha admitted. ‘But I would not be living under his boot. The same cannot be said for your tribe.’

  ‘I like him less since he started to count Ysgawyn as an ally,’ Tangwen muttered.

  ‘He is no fool, he can see Ysgawyn for what he is,’ Anharad said, but she did not look at either of the other women. ‘Everything I … we sought to build has been snatched away. I am not like either of you now. I am no longer beautiful …’

  ‘What matters that?’ Britha asked. ‘That is not what we are about.’

  Tangwen barely realised that her hand had covered where the acid scar on her face had been before the drinking of Britha’s blood had healed it.

  Anharad fixed Britha with a long, hard look.

  ‘Easy enough for you to say,’ she told the dryw, who looked genuinely confused. ‘By all accounts you can still catch the eye of a rhi yourself.’ Britha opened her mouth to retort. ‘Peace, please. I have been strong enough. I do not have that many winters left. I would live them out in as much comfort as possible and see Mabon well placed. I do not think Bladud will be a tyrant, I will add my word to his with the Trinovantes but in the end it will be their choice.’

  ‘It is dangerous,’ Britha started cautiously. ‘For a woman of—’

  ‘For a woman who has seen as many winters as I have to have children?’ Anharad laughed. ‘My days of giving birth have passed long since. He has another wife in the north who has provided him with children. He may have other wives if he wishes, lovers; it makes little difference to me as long as I have primacy.’

  Something about this whole conversation bothered Tangwen. As a warrior among her people she counted as much as any other warrior. She did not like the way Bladud seemed to be the important one in the marriage. She could see that Britha looked uneasy as well.

  ‘His first wife will not like this,’ Britha said.

  Anharad shrugged. ‘By all accounts she is young, pretty and docile. Who knows? Maybe I will teach her to respect herself, but if she troubles me I know a number of recipes that are difficult to trace. I’m too old to call her out with sword and shield, I think.’

  Tangwen was appalled but Britha just smiled and looked down.

  ‘But I tell you this much.’ Anharad turned to stare into the fire. ‘I will see the Lochlannach, Bress and this Crom Dhubh dead first.’ Her spit arced into the fire and sizzled.

  Tangwen swallowed.

  Britha nodded. ‘I go to seek the Horned God,’ the dryw said.

  ‘Are you sure you can fit another child in your belly?’ Tangwen asked and both she and Anharad laughed.

  ‘You go too far, little snake!’ Britha said, unable to keep the smile from her face as she left the fire and walked into the woods.

  Britha lifted her robes and squatted. She did not feel the cold as she once had but the draft on her hindquarters was still an unpleasant experience. Steam rose from the snow that had settled as she made water.

  ‘So your friend would see me dead?’

  Britha actually cried out as she stood bolt upright, looking around frantically for her spear. She had left it leaning against a nearby tree. She found it and grabbed the weapon as Bress stepped into the faint moonlight that filtered through the branches.

  ‘Britha?’ Tangwen called from the fire.

  The dryw could see the warm glow of the flames through the bare wood. They were supposed to have been left alone but since Anharad was with them Britha knew that the copse of woods where they performed their pre-wedding vigil was surrounded by Brigante and Trinovantes warriors. Of course they would not be difficult for Bress to slip past.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Britha called back to Tangwen. ‘I slipped.’ She wasn’t sure
why she lied. Her spear was levelled at Bress. The last time she had seen him she had run him through with the weapon. Even so, even though she had helped him kill Fachtna, even though he had denied her the rod that she needed to get back to the Ubh Blaosc, she could not deny how he made her feel.

  ‘It is not right—’ Britha began.

  ‘Really? Another lecture on how I should behave? Are you sure you are in a position to sit in judgement?’

  ‘Not on all, but even a slave is in a position to sit in judgement of you!’ Britha snapped, trying to ignore how much she wanted to lie with him. ‘For you are the lowest of all the slaves.’ Bress was circling, making her turn to keep the tip of the spear between them both. She tried to remind herself of all that he had done. How he had all but wiped out her tribe, but she wanted to grab him by his hair, ram him against the closest tree, and take him.

  Bress nodded towards the spear. ‘I can take that from you any time I wish.’

  ‘Draw your sword, let’s end this now,’ Britha spat, but it was bravado. Even with her own skill, even with the magics of the chalice inside her and the demon imprisoned in the spear whispering to her, hungry for gore, she knew she was no match for Bress. ‘You lied to me. You said that you would take me back to the Ubh Blaosc!’

  Bress made a claw with his hand and nodded towards her belly. ‘I could tear it out of you now, like I tore out your friend’s heart.’

  Britha tried to blink away her tears. It was the cruellest thing he had ever said to her.

  ‘Kill it with tansy. It will only live to do Crom Dhubh’s bidding.’

  Britha heard someone running through the forest towards her. Her attention was diverted for a moment and Bress was gone.

  Tangwen almost slipped over in the snow as she came to a halt next to the dryw, a hatchet in one hand, her dagger in the other, looking around frantically. ‘He was here, wasn’t he?’ she demanded.