by Jules Watson
After a long while, Samana appeared, looking quite well and free of headaches. Her hair was unbound, and in her simpler blue robe and absence of jewellery, she looked much more like the girl that Rhiann had known on the Sacred Isle. She ordered nettle tea, and talked of inconsequential things until it was served and they were left alone.
Mindful that they needed Samana for her information, Rhiann could not ask all that was in her heart, for fear of pushing too much. Eremon would advise her to go softly.
‘So, cousin.’ Rhiann sipped her tea. ‘It has been four years – and you look the better for it.’
Samana smiled graciously, then put her hand on Rhiann’s arm, her smile disappearing in a frown of concern. ‘I wish I could say the same for you, Rhiann. You look so thin and drawn. We heard about the Sacred Isle.’
Rhiann jerked her arm away involuntarily, then put her tea down. ‘It was very difficult.’
Samana sighed. ‘I think of the Sisters often.’
‘Really? You were always aching to escape as soon as you could.’
That comment was unintentionally sharp, and Samana’s dark eyes flashed. ‘Too much praying and too little fun – you know it did not suit me in the end. And you were the golden child, after all, not me! The rest of us could only wait for your messages to come down from on high.’ She smiled as if she were jesting, but her voice was tinged with something else. It reminded Rhiann of Samana’s manner all those years ago. This dark, wild cousin had been a mystery to her even then.
‘And are you having fun now?’ Rhiann asked.
Samana trailed her elegant hands over the spout of a silver flagon. ‘Yes, indeed, and I am not ashamed of it. I have beautiful things around me.’ She fixed Rhiann with her dark eyes. ‘And beautiful men in my bed. What more could I want?’
Rhiann blushed and looked away, and Samana laughed softly. ‘Oh, Rhiann. I forgot that you have greater sensitivities about such things. And other priorities – after all, you must be far too busy in your role of Ban Cré to worry much about men.’
‘Well, as you can see, I have been given a fine-looking man of my own, so little do I need to worry.’ It nearly choked Rhiann to say the words.
‘Ah, yes indeed. You are very lucky, cousin.’ Samana paused. ‘And he is a brave man, too.’
‘Yes,’ Rhiann agreed, not at all enthused about talking of Eremon. She wanted to come to the real reason she was here. ‘I have to say it is admirable how you have been able to overcome your own grief at the King’s fate so easily. The story you told last night was very touching.’
She held her breath, knowing it was impertinent – but anyone with two eyes could see that Samana had been acting. Anyone with two eyes and no bulge between their legs, that is.
To her surprise, Samana just laughed. ‘Really, Rhiann,’ she drawled, dropping the brittle politeness, ‘let’s be frank now.’
‘That would be a new departure, Samana.’
‘You’ve become rather droll since I saw you last! Life away from the island has spiced you up, then. Perhaps we shall get along after all.’
Rhiann picked up her tea again. ‘What were you going to tell me?’
Samana dangled her cup between her fingers, at ease in her chair. ‘You and I both were kin to kings whom we did not care for, who would bestow our hand in marriage to any smelly, hairy chieftain if he had enough cattle. Don’t pretend to me that your uncle’s death was a blow to your heart!’
Not in the way that you mean, anyway, Rhiann thought.
‘So,’ Samana went on, ‘how can I pretend that I miss him, or that bunch of lecherous old men who would soon barter me away like a sack of barley? It was a blow, yes, but I’ve made the most of it. My people are still safe and have not been slaughtered in their beds. We have even more wealth pouring in. And here I sit, with more freedom than any princess in Alba. Don’t tell me you don’t envy that!’
Rhiann realized that envy of Samana’s position had not crossed her mind. ‘Freedom, Samana? When you have new masters now? How is this freedom?’
‘Oh, come,’ Samana said impatiently. ‘The Romans do not interfere with my rule. If I were some hot-headed prince bursting with pride about my lineage and my ancestors and my precious cattle – well then, perhaps such a surrender would be hard to stomach. But you and I, Rhiann, know that we women have more sense in one finger than a man does in his whole body. I did not choose it, but this suits me and my people well. Resisting now will mean their deaths, and the loss of everything we have!’
Rhiann was shaking her head. ‘I am a woman, and I still don’t understand, Samana. You are a priestess. The land is our Mother – you know this! How can you sit by and bear the blows of Roman tread on Her body, the tearing of Her flesh? How can you stand the rape of the trees, the sacrilege of the springs?’
Samana smiled. ‘You were always more devout than me, Rhiann. The Goddess did not choose to bestow the powers on me that she did on you. I have my own talents, and I use them well. I honour Her in my own way.’
Rhiann caught the slight, sensuous movement of Samana’s mouth, and had to look aside. She took a breath, tapping her fingers on her knee. ‘Be that as it may … will you help us?’
Samana paused. ‘Yes, of course, cousin. But what little I have to tell can wait until we are all together. No!’ She stopped Rhiann’s protest. ‘I have allowed you to have your way, and now you will respect mine. Tomorrow night we will dine again, and talk further of these matters.’
‘Tomorrow! Why won’t you meet with us tonight?’
‘I am still suffering from my headache, and will stay abed tonight. Besides, there are some administrative matters to attend to – I cannot go riding about the hills as you do!’
Rhiann regarded Samana’s glowing face and bright eyes with scepticism. Still, she could not force her to do anything.
‘To make it up to you, cousin, tomorrow I will have Carnach take you around our lands, showing you every little thing to do with Romans. Will that sweeten your disposition?’
‘Do not talk to me like one of your brainless conquests, Samana.’
‘My, how you have grown in wit, Rhiann.’ Samana rose. ‘I look forward to further discussions, but now you must leave me. I will see you tomorrow.’
Later that night, Rhiann sat on the bed in her hut, drawing an antler comb through the ends of her hair, watching the strands fall before the fire.
She had barely seen Eremon in two days, which normally would not concern her, but during their tour of the port he had been strangely distracted. Beneath his questions and jests, she sensed a deep disturbance.
Her comb stilled, as she was struck by a new thought. Now that he had seen what came of peace with the Romans, was Eremon regretting his oath to the Epidii? She suddenly realized, in truth, how tenuous his tie to her people was. He seemed a man of honour, but he would always put his position and his men first – of course he would!
What if he thought that he would have more to gain by joining the tribes who surrendered? Goddess! Desperate to take some control, Rhiann had not thought through the implications of putting herself in the hands of his men, who were, after all, still strangers.
Her mind turned over the hints about Eremon’s past. If he was here to gain a name, as she sensed, then it did not matter to him how he won that name. And once he had won it, then of course he would be racing for home. Rhiann froze, unable to believe that she had not really considered this before. Well, when he leaves, at least I will be free of him! She need only pray that he remained as their defence against the Romans for as long as he was needed. What he did then was not a concern.
She heard a tiny movement now, and glanced up to see Eremon standing just inside the doorway. His stance was tense, and she thought his body quivered slightly, although it may just have been a breeze across the flames.
‘I came only to get this.’ He strode across the room and swept up his cloak from where it lay over his leather pack, then began to dig around, looking for something. ‘
The men and I are going back to the port. We’re hoping to find out something from those Roman traders. I may not return until late.’ His voice was strangely harsh, as if he could not breathe properly.
She rested the comb on the fur bedcover. ‘Eremon, we must work subtly. Such a visit could be dangerous.’
He straightened, and she saw a stain of colour flush his face. His eyes were wild, the gaze far away. ‘Don’t question me! Outside these walls I may be your servant, but certainly not within.’ He threw the cloak over his shoulders, tucked a dagger into his belt and was gone.
Well!
Rhiann rose and walked to the door after him, pulling back the cover and looking up at the sky. The clouds had all fled, and moonlight spilled down from the velvet darkness above.
But as she stood there, still smarting from Eremon’s harsh words, she suddenly felt again the strange presence that had been pulling at the edges of her soul for the last day. With the other distractions of the port and her talk with Samana, she had successfully ignored it. But now, alone in the clear night, her full awareness rushed in.
There was some power at work here, whispering to her, taunting her. She sensed it within the pit of her belly, warm as it rose up the length of her body: a cloying warmth, slippery and mocking, yet with a chord of something primal. Closing her eyes, Rhiann held the doorpost and leaned out. And with her spirit-eye she glimpsed it; an energy, a vibration, snaking in streamers of fog, dark as dried blood, along the paths between the houses. It coiled into doorways and crept around corners, wreathing the feet of those few people walking by.
Although somehow Rhiann knew that the magic was not made for her, a sudden fear rose up from deep within, and with a silent cry she warded it away. No! Be gone from me!
The fingers of fog halted, and slunk away from her feet, and in their place a gust of icy wind blew up the village path, lifting the sweaty tendrils of hair from her face.
Rhiann shook herself free from the heavy warmth and breathed deeply. Whatever it was, it had gone, and would trouble her no more tonight. Magic could only gain entrance where someone had given it leave willingly. And she was not willing.
She remained at the doorway for hours, watching the stars sweep away the evil warmth in a flood of silver.
In the small room, all was golden heat and ruddy light. No breath of air crept past the fleece over the window, and the stillness was filled with liquid warmth, and the heavy scent of sweet, ripe apples.
Samana lay, her throat arched back, her hair a black fall of silk across the pillow. Sweat trickled over her breasts, and the man bowed his head to lick it from her skin, a deep groan escaping his throat. ‘Again!’ she cried, and he thrust deep within her, and she dug her nails into him fiercely, raking more welts among the tracery of red lines across his back. Their mouths met, tongues reaching for each other in animal hunger, and she raised her hips to plunge him deeper into her, grasping her white legs around his waist.
He wrenched her over then, and they tumbled, struggling and scratching, driven by the hot need of their bodies, yearning to go further to the wild places within. At last Samana pushed him back, her hair falling in a dark curtain about them, pausing for a moment to catch her breath.
His eyes were closed, his sweat-streaked chest heaving. She always left the lamp burning to let them see her beauty, to drive them mad with need of her, but this one did not want to look long at her. Oh, no. He wanted to lose himself. And to this she drove him, like the whip drives the slave, like the storm drives the waves before it.
So he bore her down again, hands hard on her shoulders as he found the warm, wet opening and entered anew, and she smiled to herself at his force and great strength. It always took her breath away, to feel the ridges of muscles tensing, hard as iron under her fingers, to know that she mastered a beast such as this.
She opened her legs wider, drawing him into the well inside her, drawing him into the centre of her power, clasping him with her legs so there was no escape. Then she raised her head and sunk her teeth into his shoulder, and his thrusts grew more frenzied, and he wound his fingers into her black hair and pulled her head back.
With a jerking, agonized cry, he reached his peak, and she followed, screeching like a wildcat into his shoulder. When it was over he collapsed on to her flushed breasts, legs tangled in the bedcovers, his body pinning her to the damp bed.
After a while, his breath stilled, and he slept.
Samana lay awake, triumph in her smile. For a while she watched the play of shadows on the walls around her, but then she closed her eyes and sent her awareness outside to seek the roiling and curling of her lustful spell as it snaked through the village.
She had always been able to see her magic working, and so now she hovered at doorways, listening in satisfaction to the animal cries of pleasure she drew from the people this night, and in even greater satisfaction to the cries of pain.
And then she saw the woman, a cold, still woman, outlined by the starlight in the doorway of her guesthouse. Samana laughed to herself as she saw that the spell had been warded there, and so lost its power.
And her body’s hand drew a nail lightly across Eremon’s sleeping back.
Chapter 26
Rhiann was gone before Eremon rose that morning. He asked one of the servants where she was, and discovered that she’d taken a horse to the beach. No one knew when she would be back.
He splashed his face with water from a pottery basin, and rubbed his bleary eyes. Gods! His head felt as if he had consumed the entire stock of Samana’s wine, but he had only drunk two cups. His mind ached, intensely weary, but his body still thrummed with a heightened tension that he found almost uncomfortable. It was like an itch, making him feel jittery in his own skin.
He stretched his back and neck muscles, and sat down on the bed to comb his hair. What a surprise Rhiann’s cousin had turned out to be! He smiled to himself. Only a madman could look at those curves and those sensual eyes and not want to bed her. Still, it wasn’t like him to be swept away by such a feeling – although he was glad he had given in to her invitation.
By the Boar! Comparing Aiveen to her was like comparing a soft, fluffy kitten to a sleek wildcat. She had certainly given him a night to remember.
Suddenly restless, he rose and began searching through his pack. After such a night, his limbs should be heavy with the languor that follows the release of pent-up energy. But he could not sit still long enough to braid his hair! He found a fresh tunic and pulled it over his head, tugging his hair into submission with his fingers, stopping to detangle a few sweat-tied knots.
And then he realized that, far from seeing more of the Votadini lands this fine morning, or even talking with his men, there was only one thing that he wanted right now.
And that was to do it with her again.
It was much later than he thought, and when he got to the house where Conaire was staying, he found that his men had already gone.
‘The Lady Samana sent her huntsman here quite early, lord,’ the servant emptying the wash basins informed him. ‘I hear he is taking them on a long ride to see one of the deserted Roman camps.’
‘And why was I not woken?’
‘The lady told us not to disturb you.’
‘Did she now?’
‘She also said that when you did wake, to tell you that you could break your fast with her.’
Well. There was only one thing for it, then. He found Samana standing by the window in her reception room, frowning over a wooden writing tablet. She wore her saffron robe again, and the sun filtered through the oiled paper, gleaming on her black hair and the gold rings on her fingers.
‘Lady.’ He bowed to her.
She smiled and swayed closer to him. ‘Come now! There is no one here. Do you need to call me lady now?’ She reached up and buried her free hand in his hair, drawing his lips down to hers. With her first touch, the burning that had driven all thoughts from his head the night before was ignited once more, and he forced he
r lips apart until their tongues met with the same devouring need.
When they broke apart, he was shaking at the strength of it, but had just enough presence of mind to turn away to the table. As he poured some ale he cursed himself roundly. He was no virginal boy, to react this way! He shook his head, for his mind was hazy, though every fibre of his body sang with lust. He took the ale in one draught and poured another, turning back to her.
Samana was sliding her eyes over him with frank admiration. Which made a change, he had to admit, from Rhiann’s cold regard. Perhaps that was why his body was betraying him so soundly.
She offered him some bread and cheese from a platter, with deep speculation in those darkest of eyes. As he munched, he said, ‘Why did you separate me from my men so neatly?’
Her smile widened as she put the platter back on the table. ‘Ah, and a fine brain, too. I wanted to speak to you alone, of course.’
‘You could have spoken last night.’ Even saying the words brought a flood of warmth to his skin. Now I am acting like a virginal boy!
‘I think we both had more pressing concerns last night.’ She took a sliver of cheese from the platter and nibbled on it delicately.
‘I am here to find out about the Romans. I need to be with my men to see what they see.’
‘Oh, they won’t see much.’ She waved her hand. ‘You will get your information by staying here. You must trust me.’
‘You talk in riddles, lady. Speak plainly.’
Samana put the cheese back on the platter, and brushed off her hands. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘I’m tired of having endless conversations in this room. It is a blustery day. Let us walk on the walls.’
The wind whipped Eremon’s hair across his face, and slapped the tribal standard on its post above the palisade. Far off, the sea was a shining bowl of molten gold in the sun.