by Jane Stain
“As you well know, the man is more slippery than quicksilver.”
Grudgingly, Marcus nodded.
The soldier slowly shook his head no as he continued speaking.
“But this time we had him. He was all alone and cornered in a thicket here in this forest by the twelve of us. It should have been over. We should have brought you his head —”
Marcus shook the man a bit by his hair and yelled into his ear.
“Yes! You should have! By Jupiter, why didn’t you?”
The soldier didn’t resist, just put his hand out palm down and moved it parallel to the floor as he spoke calmly and again, with more intelligence than Marcus would’ve expected from a man his age — twenty or so.
“Out of the clear blue sky, a woman warrior joined him. By Athena, she must have fallen out of one of the trees of the forest and landed by his side, because at no time did we see anyone approaching him, and we had been following him closely ever since he left our wall. This woman picked up Captain’s sword and ran to the barbarian’s side, creating a bottleneck in the thicket such that none of us could approach the two of them without feeling the wrath of both of their swords. We tried, but after four of us had fallen, we admitted defeat and retreated. We fully expected the woman and the barbarian to kill the fallen, but they only looted them before they ran off. We came straight here and didn’t see a soul on the way. And that’s the end of my report.”
Marcus got back into his chair and gestured his slave girls back over to resume work on his nails. He stroked his beard and looked at the familiar pattern of cracks in the stone wall.
“This woman warrior…”
“She was fierce, and oddly, she was dressed in one of our own tunics. Captain says she even had one of our helmets —”
Marcus cut the man off with a gesture.
“Yes I’m sure that’s very interesting, but was she beautiful?”
The soldier cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry, did you ask if she was beautiful?”
Marcus felt his temper rising again. The urge to grab the man and by the throat and throttle him was almost overpowering, but he thought better of it. Because how would a throttled soldier answer any questions?
Marcus settled for pounding the arm of the chair with his fist.
“Yes, I did. Don’t play the fool with me, soldier. I can tell you’re a man of intelligence, so use it. Tell me what this strange fighting woman looked like, and spare me no details.”
Eleven
Sunlight was creeping in through the cracks on the other side of the tiny room at the top of the broch when Jaelle awoke. She wasn’t confused at all about where she was, but she was ever so grateful that Kelsey had made her tour her memories, because she recalled very clearly where the nearest earthenware pot was, and she needed it desperately. She had slept in the plaid dress and the leather shoes, so she just got up and headed two flights down, listening to Breth and a bunch of other people talking on the fourth floor.
“Aye, messengers came in from brochs two through four while you were gone.”
“what do they say?”
“There have been three more attacks in the last three days.”
“Marcus appears to be making a last ditch attempt to get his precious wall built.”
“He’s attacking all up and down the construction…”
Jaelle was thankful that even though these people went about naked when they were ritually decorated for battle, they appreciated privacy when relieving themselves. A small straw booth had been constructed around the earthenware pot with soft green leaves left nearby for wiping, and there was even handmade soap and a pitcher of wash water.
The smell of food cooking on the fourth level drew her just as much as the voices, and she rushed up there, unsurprised to see Breth and Deoord and several other people sitting around the table waiting for their food while a couple cooked what smelled like eggs and some unfamiliar vegetables. Everyone was sandy haired and blue eyed like Breth.
He smiled at her and gestured to the empty seat beside him.
“Everyone, this is Jaelle, the one the future druids sent us. We must make her feel welcome.”
Except for one woman who brooded, they all smiled at her and then waved or nodded as Breth named them. Jaelle knew there was no way she would remember everyone’s name, but she tried.
“Jaelle, this is my father Eddarrnonn and my mother Almba, and my brother Talorac. And these two over here cooking are my father's brother Lutrin and his wife Fondla. This is my other uncle, Wroid, along with his wife Heulwen. You know Deoord, and these are our other three druids: Ia, Boann, and Nechtan.”
Breth then turned toward the door, where three people sat apart, dressed, but decorated in woad nonetheless.
“Gest, Uvan, Dhori, go to brochs two, three, and four, respectively, and tell them what I’ve just told you about all I saw while I spied on Marcus the other night. Tell them the time is coming when we must raid again. Ask for a meeting in the sacred grove a fortnight hence. Go, run like the deer.”
The three lean runners, two men and a woman, nodded and left immediately with nothing but the clothes and swords on their backs.
Wanting to ask what they were going to eat on their trip but afraid to hear the answer, Jaelle stood back to get out of their way and then went and sat next to Breth.
The brooding woman waved her hand in the air, and Breth turned to her as if she had just come in.
“Oh and this is Morna, the daughter of clan chief Ciniod.”
Uh oh. Morna smiled at Breth when he introduced her, but whenever no one else was looking, she glowered at Jaelle with a look that unmistakably meant ‘drop dead ― or at least get out of here ― because you aren’t welcome.’
And of course Jaelle said the first thing that came to her mind ― or rather her mouth did. Sometimes she was convinced it was trying to get her killed and thought it would live on without her.
"Hello Morna. Are you here as some sort of foreign exchange student, or are you a foster child here, or what?"
Yeah, and as it often happened when she didn’t guard her loose tongue, it had come up with the wrong thing to say.
If Morna's hidden scowl was hostile before, it was now outright murderous. But Morna was by far more skilled in the social graces, and Jaelle watched her in fascination, ready to learn. Morna leaned back and smiled at Breth's parents, uncles, and aunts, nodding slightly when they smiled back at her in a friendly way that apologized for Jaelle’s presence, Morna soaked up their apologies and looked so grateful that they even started looking doubtful about accepting Jaelle, who was obviously upsetting Morna by sitting next to Breth at his invitation.
Wow, Morna was a grandmaster at social manipulation.
For a moment, Jaelle wished she had her phone so she could video this. And then she realized how difficult that would be to explain to these intelligent but non-technological people and was glad she didn’t have it.
When Morna spoke at long last, her voice wasn't at all catty or snarky or unpleasant in any way. No, it was gracious and ladylike and above reproach.
Score fifty points for Morna.
"Yes, Jaelle, it's something like that. My father is the leader of another branch of our kingdom’s people. He sent me over to stay with Eddarrnonn and Almba as a … bit of a foster child, yes, you could put it that way. My mission is to spread goodwill between our clans. To get to know them and to perhaps think of them as family. Maybe even to join their family someday."
Jaelle couldn't resist looking at Breth to see what his opinion of this was. Did he like the idea? She looked over at him to see. Well, if she was being honest, mostly she wanted to see if he was ashamed for making it seem last night like he was available and single and unattached and everything he had said teasingly to her.
She couldn't believe it.
He was smiling at his younger brother and nudging him, convinced that Talorac was the target of this matchmaking on their parents’ part. Could h
e really be that clueless? That ignorant of the looks Morna was giving him?
Apparently so.
When Breth caught Jaelle looking at him, he winked at her and rolled his eyes toward his brother as if to say, 'be glad you aren't part of a clan chief’s family and don't have to go through all these machinations like poor Talorac over here. Isn't he pitiable?'
Fortunately, out loud Breth changed the subject, speaking with excitement.
“After we eat, we will all be going with the druids. It is our custom that I as the lead fighter of our clan and Father as the lead planner and the older members of our family help them prepare the sacred grove for a meeting. Will you come with us?”
Jaelle had heard about the druids’ ceremonies, and before she could stop it, her mouth babbled about it.
“How do I know I’m not coming along as your human sacrifice?”
Everyone except Morna laughed, which put Jaelle a little more at ease, seeing as how it wasn’t a cruel laugh but one of mirth. Even Breth’s aunt and uncle who were passing out plates of eggs and veggies joined in on the fun.
Breth picked up what looked like a slice of cooked eggplant, folded it in half, and used it to scoop up some eggs while he spoke to her through his laughter.
“Our people haven’t performed human sacrifice in hundreds of years.”
Resolving to just never look at Morna, Jaelle felt the bag that was tucked into her belt to make sure the helmet was still there and then folded her own slice of eggplant and dug into her eggs.
“All right, then. Yes, I’ll go with you.”
Twelve
The walk to the sacred grove was like a party, save for the weapons everyone but the druids wore. The whole way there, the druids sang in a language that must have been even older than the Pictish one she was speaking with Breth. Many of the roots were the same, and she could catch some words of it, but most of it was just gibberish — especially because they were singing rather than talking.
“Breth, what are they singing about?”
He twinkled his eyes at her, wrinkling his nose.
“They sing of spring blossoms and fall leaves, of running deer and soaring egrets, the moon on the waters of the loch, and the wind whistling through winter’s barren branches.”
She gave him a tight sideways smile.
“If you don’t want to tell me, just say so. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
This comment made him throw his head back and laugh so that his chest shook.
She enjoyed watching that.
He threw his arm around her and walked with her as if they’d known each other all their lives, weaving back and forth to the rhythm of the druid song.
“Oh, but I did tell you.”
Her heart soared at the feel of him holding her.
But then the druid Nechtan popped up between them, and Breth laughed and let the man butt in, letting go of her.
Looking comically full of himself, the little man proceeded to lecture Jaelle.
“This is one of many ancient songs that have always been among us. It is our same language, just an older version of it, from when we used to change our words more than we do now. Songs preserve those things, you know.”
Feeling a bit uneasy and not knowing why, Jaelle gave the druid her best ‘Oh really?’ nod ― and then rushed back over to Breth’s side, where she remained the rest of the way to the sacred grove, allowing Breth to translate the songs for her and looking about uneasily for the little druid man, who fortunately had been called up front by Breth’s father, clan leader Eddarrnonn.
Morna scowled at her a few times, but other than that, the rest of the walk was pleasant.
When they arrived and the druids spread out, gesturing for the rest of them to sit down in a circle, the beauty of the sacred grove enchanted Jaelle, mostly because she was sure there were no tall thick old trees like this in Scotland in her day. The trees seemed to dance for her benefit in the wind, bringing back a distant memory of a family reunion years ago when she was a child in Washington State.
Her grandparents told her about a large local landmark the Indians had made reportedly as a burial site. The size of a twenty story skyscraper, it was called Grand Mound. She was excited to see it. But when they got to the spot where it should have been, Grandma and Grandpa couldn’t find the mound. Distressed, they looked all over for this very popular monument that the town was named after.
Finally, one of the locals asked them what they were looking for, and on hearing it was the grand mound, gestured over and said, “Don’t you see it? It's right there.”
The three of them looked over and saw what looked like a mountain of trees.
Grandma gave Jaelle a worried look.
“Those trees weren't there when we were growing up here, your grandpa and I. The mound looks entirely different. The whole town looks entirely different than when we left here sixty years ago. It doesn't even feel like the same place.”
Because of this painful experience with her grandparents, Jaelle knew that modern maps of forests would be useless to her during this time. If plant life could change that much in sixty years, how much more would have changed in two thousand years?
And then something happened that Jaelle should have been prepared for psychologically but was not.
Everyone stripped down and looked at her to do the same. Morna with a sneer.
When Jaelle froze there with her mouth hanging open, Breth looked at her with amusement in his eyes.
“I thought you understood that for ceremonies we go natural and have the druids decorate us with their ritual blue woad clay. It’s a great honor for you to be invited along, which as the emissary of the future druids we owe you. Don’t you want to participate?”
She turned crimson.
“I can see how you would think I understood that, but this is so foreign to me that I… It never crossed my mind that I would be…”
What should she do? She was dying to see what these rituals were like. The knowledge would be so useful at her job. She would have stories to enthrall the toughest crowds, even people like Fat Grandpa the next time she encountered one of those, which happened often.
Emboldened by the fact that everyone else had stripped and she wouldn't be alone in it, she did so, even putting the leather sack with the Roman helmet down on top of her pile of clothes. With her eyes on it in a bit of worry, she walked over to where the line of druids was decorating the line of laymen with clay they had brought along with them in earthenware jars.
Jaelle fell into the line between Breth and his mother. The clay was cold. The experience was anything but.
“But I know the woad decorations are needed according to your traditions, and of course I will go along with that—”
She broke off what she was going to say, because Breth’s eyes were mocking her playfully. He spoke in a teasing way, not as if he meant it.
“You’ll go along with that? Look, if you don’t want to be part of our traditions, then why don’t you just go home, future woman?”
In fact his eyes were laughing so much that she forgot everyone else was there for a moment and just stared at Breth’s glimmering blue eyes.
Deoord cleared his throat.
“Look, if you have… unfinished business to attend to, then I can come back later…”
Breth squeezed her around the waist. But then he looked toward the noon sky and sighed, then gently nudged her waist toward the druid.
“Tempting, but no. We really do need to get started.”
Jaelle tried again.
“Why don’t we just do the woad decorations tomorrow? There must be other things we could do today.”
Breth and Deoord shared a look that said she really was a future woman and they had their hands full trying to make her understand their way of life. But the future druids demanded it of them.
Deoord decorated Breth’s naked body just as complexly as it had been when she met Breth, but with different animals and creatures this time w
ho were just as animated and fascinating and artful. Jaelle particularly liked the owl montage that now covered Breth’s back. When he flexed, the owls took flight.
And as the druid made all these wonderful blue clay markings on that beautiful man’s bare skin, he patiently explained.
“These markings are protective, not really decorative — although they are that as well. Because I whetted the clay myself, and put it on, the drawings are infused with my magic, and my magic is the most strong when whetted with these waters which feed our sacred grove…”
Deoord spoke all the while he decorated Breth’s entire body, and when he was finished, he turned to Jaelle and gave a look that asked if he was to decorate her as well.
And she stood resolute and nodded yes at him.
The clay was cold. And it was almost unbearably weird to have a stranger she wasn’t interested in touching her naked body, albeit to paint her with the woad clay.
But it helped immensely that everyone around her was participating in this ritual as well. And smiling about it.
The small magic man had finished decorating her left arm and was moving to her back when he paused.
“Do you have an affinity with any particular animal? Any that befriended you or that you tried to kill but couldn’t, or that you tamed? Decorations made with such an animal will make my protective magic even stronger.”
This gave Jaelle pause. She’d never had any pets. Her dad was allergic.
“No real animals, but I do love the idea of dragons. I don’t suppose that helps, though.”
But at this, she felt his hand going into furious motions on her back, spreading the clay in a wide span that she thought must be a wing.
His voice was as steady as ever while he worked, calming her.
“That’s not just an idea. Dragons are every bit as real as horses or owls, and they are the patron animals of druids! Many think the various breeds of dragons went extinct in the age when the earth was covered in ice, but the dragons who went deep into the sea survived. Good on you. The dragon is a very strong patron animal. My magic will protect you well, so long as you wear this woad.”