Time of the Celts: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 1)

by Jane Stain

  But far from having the expected effect on her, his comment made her laugh a bit through her nose, an odd laugh that was rather stifled, yet attractive in a way he hadn’t seen before and didn’t understand. He supposed that made her even more enticing. She was an enigma, and he enjoyed a challenge.

  Her eyes turned into teasing pools of mirth, but they were still kind. Playful rather than wicked. He liked it.

  “Well I’m glad you’re still breathing, too.”

  A dozen or so other clan members were still out here, and they all came over to join him for the walk to their prearranged meeting spot for situations like this ― which happened to be the sacred grove he and Jaelle had just left.

  On the walk back, Breth took reports from everyone and got a good idea who had survived and who had died. The fighting force was largely intact. Most who had died were past the age of warriorhood or too young to have started.

  Several turned to him for his revenge plan.

  “When do we attack their fort, Breth?”

  “Yeah, when will we get them back?”

  Knowing they needed reassurance that he was in control of the situation even though he wasn’t, he gave them his most confident look.

  “We need to wait until after the meeting we called, in a fortnight. Or at least until the messengers come back and let us know if the other clans have accepted the meeting time.”

  And then Jaelle turned to look at him with a fire in her eyes that amazed him.

  “I say we go right now.”

  He grinned and gave her another embrace, this one not so quick. This wasn’t even her clan. Yet.

  “Hold that thought — for we will go, once all the clans are gathered.”

  When they got to the sacred grove, they made camp with the supplies they had stowed there, for such a time as this. And once it was dark and the smoke wouldn’t give away their position, they built a large bonfire in the clearing and took up positions all around it with their faces illuminated by the flames.

  As the dead’s clan members, it was their duty to stay awake all night in remembrance, telling each other their strongest memories of each person who had passed on to the next life.

  “The day my father and I hunted the boar together is still my proudest moment as a hunter. It was my first kill of a large animal, and I am grateful that he let it be mine. He always was considerate, thinking of who might like to be the one dealing the killing blow this time. He was a fine hunter and could have taken them all himself…”

  “My daughter had not yet taken her first steps, but she had a laugh that reminded me of the lovely goats braying. It brought our family much joy. May she have more luck in the next life than she had in this one, because she deserves it, being such a happy soul…”

  “My husband always loved it when I sang this song. It would make him smile and look at me as though the world had been handed to him. And so I sing it now for him one last time, hoping that he smiles on his way into the next world…”

  On into the night they talked, and the clouds gave way to the vast expanse of all the stars in the heavens, representing the souls of all who had gone before and yet still had not found their next world, shining down upon everyone in their benevolence.

  “My brother was the best at carving the story pictures. I know he is happy that he has left them all behind as a permanence in this world that we can all remember him by. I will make a trip to the wall to see his masterpiece one last time before I leave this world, or I will leave this world trying to get there...”

  At this one, Jaelle turned to the woman who had spoken — Gisa, who had lost her brother that day.

  “You mean your brother’s carvings are in the wall that the Roman Emperor Hadrian builds? Why would he carve there?”

  Gisa turned to Breth and pleaded with her eyes that he would explain to his new friend and save her the trouble so that she could continue to maintain her wakefulness in her brother’s honor without distraction.

  Breth nodded to Gisa and then turned back to the one he wanted to make his.

  Jaelle drank in the scene around her, it was so rich in the culture and history and lore that she and her friends wondered the most about: the ancient Scots. She had never imagined enjoying a wake, but then she had never been to one and hadn’t known what she was missing.

  The wake was like every other type of family gathering rolled into one — and nothing like a funeral. Oh sure, people were crying. But they were laughing too, sometimes at the same time. Rather than dwell on someone’s death, they were celebrating each and every clan member’s life that had ended today.

  The women mended or embroidered as they talked and told stories and laughed and sang songs — all while remembering the departed who had grown up with them.

  The young men and women went out on a hunt and came back with a deer, which they roasted over the bonfire on a spit and then carved out for everyone to eat, with leftovers for the morrow.

  The older men whittled wood, or worked leather, or knapped arrowheads while they stood and laughed heartily and even shed tears for those who had passed beyond their knowledge — for now, as they said.

  The children played extra exuberantly, running in and out of the trees in an elaborate game of tag that resembled those Jaelle herself had played as a child. The biggest tree was their safe spot.

  It was fun to watch them. They didn't have toys so to speak, but they didn't lack for having fun. They ran about and laughed and chatted with each other, telling stories and making up fantasies.

  In fact, Jaelle’s favorite memories of being a child were of playing pretend, much like this.

  The grown-ups weren’t any less happy about being outside. In fact they were enjoying it much more than they had the broch. They happily went about gathering leaves to make soft places to sleep and they carried water up from the river with an ease and an exuberance she didn't imagine she could ever muster for such a menial task.

  But then Jaelle realized something. The common denominator between the joy of the children and that of the adults was … they had each other. They had an ease and appreciation for each other's company that was missing in the modern world. They were ecstatic that they got to socialize with each other in person.

  These people weren't waiting for the time when they could go off and be on their own and get on the internet and chat with strangers. Sure, they were missing out on all the knowledge and easy research being online provided. But she thought they had much the advantage because they were indeed without smart phones.

  And the fact is you can't miss something you never knew was there, right?

  These people didn't have family time just once a week. All of their time was family time.

  And all the grown-ups passed jars of honey mead around, and jars of a biting whiskey that Jaelle could only take one swallow of before it started her coughing and spluttering, much to everyone’s amusement.

  Guilt swamped her, and she turned to Breth to get it off her chest.

  “That poor girl lost her brother, and I have to ask her about his carvings. Please tell her I’m sorry later, once she’s over my rudeness.”

  But Breth turned to Jaelle and gave her a sympathetic friendly smile.

  “Don’t worry about what you said to Gisa. She understands your curiosity, and she is grateful that you take interest in her brother.”

  He looked over toward Gisa for confirmation of this, and Gisa smiled nicely at Jaelle before she went back to telling everyone else all the good things and funny things and otherwise remarkable things she could remember about a brother she must have loved very much.

  Breth turned back to Jaelle on the log where he sat next to her and held out his arm.

  Like a moth to a flame, she scooted up next to him and cozied into his warmth as he put his arm around her and held her with surprising tenderness and affection for a man of his warrior status. The incongruity of it made him even more attractive, as did the pleasing firmness of all his muscles pressing against
her — almost like the hot rocks of one of those rock massages.

  Making her shudder with the intimacy of it and waking up areas of her body that had been dormant six months, he leaned his head close to her and spoke in a rumbling deep voice very softly, so that his breath warmed the side of her face and tickled the inside of her ear.

  “I told you about this already, but I saw how besotted you were with my naked body, so maybe you are too distracted to hear me. This time I hope you will listen better.”

  Making it as difficult for her to listen as possible, he traced the very tip of his finger over the curve of her neck, right where it was the most sensitive, from just under her ear and down to her collarbone, still rumbling just above a whisper in his deep manly voice.

  “I explained that we carve our stories into the rock where the story took place because this is where the story makes the most sense. And all of our stories these days are about our raids on the barbarians. We cannot let them finish their wall.”

  And then the two of them curled up together for warmth while they listened to everyone speaking and laughing and crying and singing. Some, particularly the children, were nodding and falling off their logs. Others were plain old passed out and snoring or showing other signs that they were having a difficult time maintaining their wakefulness.

  Jaelle wasn’t having that problem at all.

  Sixteen

  After the sun had been up for a while and they’d all eaten some porridge prepared over the bonfire just before it got light, the clan arranged watches so that they could sleep. Breth took first watch, and Jaelle slipped into a welcome oblivion.

  She must’ve been sleeping quite a while before Amber and Kelsey stepped into her dream, because she wasn’t feeling weary at all anymore.

  Amber was looking at her with a combination of admiration and worry, mixed in with a little — horror? Oh yeah.

  “That’s quite a lot of battle blood you have all over you. I bet I wish I could see the other guy.”

  Jaelle hadn’t consciously dreamed of wearing the blood marks on what was now her only set of borrowed clothes. She must have subconsciously been aware of them, because they still decorated her, even in sleep.

  “Sorry, but I haven’t had a chance to wash, and I don’t know where I would even if I did have a chance. Here, let me bring you up-to-date on what my day was like yesterday.”

  Morna’s murderous scowl, the incident with Nechtan here at the grove, the walk back to the broch, and then the battle defending the broch from the Romans all played out in stunning detail, clear through the burning of the broch, the march back here to the sacred grove, and the wake.

  Amber hugged Jaelle.

  “Are you ready to come home yet?”

  But Kelsey chuckled.

  “Oh there’s more, though.”

  She looked to Jaelle for permission of some sort.

  When Jaelle shrugged, Kelsey played out last night’s cuddle with Breth in fast forward, but it showed a lot of detail nonetheless.

  Jaelle gave Kelsey a stare, trying to shame her for looking in on her private moments.

  But Kelsey had asked permission. She just gave Jaelle a sweet look and turned to Amber.

  “So you see, she probably wants to stay at least a little while longer.”

  Amber grinned at Jaelle with all of her teeth.

  “You’re falling for the Celtic man.”

  Embarrassed, Jaelle put on her haughty tour guide persona as a cover up.

  “More specifically, he’s a Pictish man, but even that’s not what he calls himself.”

  Kelsey’s interest must have been piqued, because she strode on over to Jaelle and materialized some comfy dream chairs amid the sleeping bodies in the sacred grove.

  The three of them sat down in a circle with Kelsey leaning forward on her elbows and looking up into Jaelle’s eyes.

  “Well, what does he call himself? Do tell. And you wouldn’t believe how grateful I am that you let me hear the Pictish language during your memories of your day. Wow, huh?”

  But at that reminder of all Breth had lost, sorrow came back to Jaelle.

  She snubbed Kelsey minorly, not answering her question ― which her friend deserved for embarrassing her even if Jaelle had given permission ― and turned to Amber.

  “So did you find anything out about the battles that were fought at the wall close to the broch the Romans burned today?”

  Amber gave her a sorry look.

  “I searched the Internet for quite a while yesterday, but I couldn’t find anything useful. I would probably have to go to one of the University libraries here in Scotland — or Kelsey could go to the one at Celtic University ― and search through microfiche of actual documents.”

  Jaelle patted her friend’s shoulder.

  “I understand. And I hope you understand this is very urgently needed information, so I hope you will do so as soon as you can and then get back to me with it.”

  She looked back-and-forth between her two old friends, searching their eyes and being mostly reassured by what she saw there.

  “You will, right?”

  Amber took her hand and gave her a look of promise and sincerity.

  “For you, I will. I’ll take a few days more here in Scotland before I head over to Australia. Tomas will understand. So will Dall and Emily.”

  Jaelle turned to Kelsey and gave her a look she hoped would shame her for being such a voyeur ― and make her help.

  Her friend looked worried, but determined.

  “Yes, I will do this for you. We’ll help you help your Pict man.”

  Seventeen

  Marcus drove his men hard, making them stay together in formation as they trained with sword and spear. They had to function as a unit, or they weren’t doing it right. This was the way of the Roman army, and he would not have his men be an embarrassment on the off, off, off chance that anyone from the continent came to inspect them.

  As a side benefit, it wouldn’t hurt to have the men in top form when — not if — Breth came to avenge those who had been killed at his rock hut.

  Jaelle awoke to a completely different sacred grove than she had fallen asleep in. It was now more like a home. A roof had been built over part of the forest, and it looked like it would protect them from the rain while sleeping here over the next several nights. The people had brought all sorts of things out of a small storage cave nearby. Bags of grain ― perhaps barley ― now accompanied the bag of oatmeal they had made a breakfast of this morning. Children were hauling blankets and cookware into the nearby shelter, along with pretty much everything else the clan needed to live there.

  Breth's mother came up behind Jaelle where she lay in the clearing by the coals of last night’s wake bonfire and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  "I don't want to presume, but I imagine you would like to wash up."

  Hope sprang into Jaelle’s heart, and she let the kindly elder woman see it on her face.

  "You must be reading my mind. There’s nothing I want more right now than a bath ― please remind me of your name?"

  "Almba."

  "Well lead on, Almba, and I hope you aren't teasing me. I hope I really can wash off all this blood."

  Smiling in a knowing but kindly way, Almba led Jaelle through the forest for a bit. They passed children tending goats and chickens as they walked.

  Jaelle kept looking back at the impromptu home that had been made there.

  “How long will the clan stay here?”

  Almba paused between the trees and leaned her head to the side for a moment, twinkling sky blue eyes that reminded Jaelle of her son’s.

  “Perhaps a moon cycle, perhaps less.”

  Jaelle turned her head slightly to the side and leaned it forward a bit as the two of them resumed their walk along a faint path among the fallen leaves in the woods.

  “And I thought my people moved around a lot. How can you be so satisfied with all this moving around? Don’t you want a steady place to l
ive, where you can put in roots? I was under the false impression that people from this time moved around far less than we do in the twenty-first century.”

  Almba waved her hand in the air briefly, taking in the trees and the mountains and even the cloudy Scottish sky.

  “Oh no. Moving is part of life’s natural rhythm. Only the dead stay still. We seldom stay in one place for more than two moon cycles at a time, though we do come back to the same places during the same times of the year each cycle.”

  So the Picts were nomads. Interesting.

  Soon, they turned down a pathway that eventually led them to a large sandy shallow pool in the river. Many of the women were down there bathing — laughing and splashing and having a grand old time. They bathed in their clothes, which then were getting washed as well.

  There was even soap.

  A line of men stood guard around the perimeter, looking outward.

  Almba saw Jaelle looking at them.

  “They will sound an alarm at the first sight of any stranger, so go ahead. Take your ease. Bathe, and make yourself more comfortable.”

  Jaelle looked down at her feet doubtfully.

  “Should I take my shoes off?”

  Almba shook her head, wrinkling her forehead the slightest.

  “No, the water will help shape them to your feet. Surely you know that?”

  Jaelle laughed and waded in.

  The cool water felt wonderful on all her sore muscles. Much sooner than she thought possible for her, she was submerged up to her neck. And sighing in pleasure. She turned to the older woman, who had followed her in and was nearby, making it easy for them to keep the conversation just between the two of them.

  For some reason, Jaelle felt shy around talking about the future in front of everyone else. She knew they knew, but still. At least two of them had a bone to pick with her.

  She chuckled a bit.

  “The truth is, we know very little about such things in my time. Whenever something is wearing out, we just toss it and get something new. We don’t make any of the things ourselves, either. We have no idea how to do it. I only own one pair of leather shoes. The rest are all made from what we call man-made materials—”