by Jules Watson
‘Sweeting,’ Conaire said more gently, ‘I look after Eremon. You know that.’
‘Hmph!’ Caitlin’s feet thudded away.
Eremon hiccupped. ‘You’ve done it now, brother …’ He tried to stand, but his legs buckled under him, refusing to obey.
‘Easy there.’ There was a jerk, and then the world turned upside down, as Conaire tossed him over his shoulder. They jigged along, and just when Eremon was feeling very sick, Conaire laid him down on some hay.
‘Where … are we?’
‘A stable. You don’t need women fussing over you. And you’ll probably be sick on someone. Rhiann wouldn’t appreciate that.’
Rhiann …
Eremon remembered her pretty hair, the tears sparkling in the firelight. ‘Brother, I’m in trouble.’
‘What trouble?’
Eremon wrenched his eyes open, tried to focus on Conaire, but all he could see was a blurred halo.
He closed his eyes, gave in. ‘I’m in love,’ he slurred. ‘With my wife.’
The entire Epidii party came to the King’s Hall to hear what Calgacus and his nobles had decided.
Only Rhiann was absent. Eremon had not seen her that morning. He awoke in the stable with a pounding head, but a dunk in cold water and an oatcake fried in bacon fat had gone some way to restoring his normal alertness.
She probably sees Drust again, he thought, studying the nobles’ faces on the benches around him. And why wouldn’t she, when he made such a fool of himself? Thank the gods he had not spoken that last admission to her. He shuddered. It was just the drink. It had to be.
Trying hard to put the image of Drust and Rhiann out of his mind, his eyes roved over the walls behind the benches. Gelert was there, his enigmatic smile broader than usual. Conaire, Rori and the others kept to the shadows by the door, Caitlin with them.
Like the warrior-king he was, Calgacus did not waste time. ‘Eremon mac Ferdiad, will you rise so you can hear our judgement?’
Eremon obliged, standing in the pool of daylight that fell through the open doorway. He’d belted on Fragarach, and donned his best tunic and gold circlet. He would look every inch a king. When they refused him.
Calgacus rose too, which surprised Eremon. The act denoted a certain equality between them, which judging by the dark looks and mutters, did not sit well with the King’s men. His heart lightened.
‘My chieftains have considered the plan put before them, prince of Erin.’
Calgacus locked glances with him, and for a moment it was as if he and Eremon were the only two in the room. But the gold-flecked eyes held regret once more. Eremon’s heart sank back in his breast.
‘They do not feel that the danger is sufficient to warrant the alliance you advise,’ Calgacus added.
Even though Eremon had expected it, the disappointment was still crushing.
‘We will ward our borders well, as we have always done, and monitor the Romans’ movements.’ The formal tone softened. ‘I know this is not what you wanted to hear.’
Eremon took a deep breath so that his voice would carry to every man there. ‘You make a serious mistake; possibly a fatal one. But know this,’ he turned slowly, fixing every chieftain there with a piercing gaze, ‘I will still make every effort to secure the co-operation of the other tribes. They may see things differently.’
Calgacus bowed his head, accepting. He didn’t seem angered by the bold words. What an ally you would make! Eremon thought fiercely, and his disappointment swelled.
‘And on whose authority will you do this?’ The challenge rang throughout the hall, and every head turned towards the speaker.
Gelert stepped forward, his oak staff of office held high, so the daylight glittered on the jet eyes of the owl. Such was Eremon’s surprise, that he could think of no immediate reply.
‘You speak as if you are a man of substance, to make this claim,’ the druid said. ‘A man with many swords sworn to you, a man who could gain the backing of all the tribes of Alba.’
Eremon narrowed his eyes. ‘What do you speak of, Lord Druid? I am this man.’
Gelert’s lip curled. ‘Are you?’ he said softly, and clicked his fingers. The light from the doorway was shadowed as a tall warrior ducked his head to enter.
The man straightened to face Eremon boldly.
It was Lorn.
Chapter 51
There was a mutter from the direction of Eremon’s men, and he was conscious that Conaire had taken a place behind his shoulder.
‘Who is this man?’ Calgacus demanded.
‘I am Lorn of the Epidii, my lord. My father is Urben of the Dun of the Sun.’
‘And why do you disturb my council?’
Without taking his eyes from Eremon, Lorn gestured at Gelert. ‘I come at the bidding of the Chief Druid. I have news of the prince of Erin, which concerns you.’
A dreadful suspicion was thickening in Eremon’s belly. Lorn had not been there the day they left Dunadd. Where had he been?
‘A week ago I returned from Erin,’ Lorn announced.
The blow took Eremon’s breath away. Yet he realized, dimly, that he had not moved one muscle, and there had been no sound from his men, not even an indrawn breath from Conaire. In that moment, he was proud of them.
Calgacus frowned. ‘What you have to say is between you and your war leader. We will finish our council, and then you can deal with your tribal business.’
‘No!’ Gelert cried. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing, and then swung his staff so it pointed at Eremon. ‘This man has lied to us all! He is not who he says he is!’
Eremon’s heart thudded erratically. Hawen’s balls! He clenched his fists, as all eyes turned to him.
‘Of what does he speak?’ Calgacus demanded. ‘Are you not the son of Ferdiad, king of Dalriada?’
Eremon raised his chin. ‘Yes, I am.’ The breath hissed through his teeth.
‘No longer,’ Gelert retorted. He faced Lorn. ‘Tell them what you found.’
Lorn smiled. ‘The prince’s father is dead, and his uncle ran him out of Erin with only the clothes he was in, and his twenty renegades. He is no longer the heir. He has no kin, no swords sworn to him, no home. He is an exile.’
That word again! It rang to the rafters. Eremon felt the hard gaze of the Caledonii nobles pierce him, he smelled the stink of Gelert’s poison, he heard the triumph in Lorn’s voice.
They were all against him. He had gambled, and lost.
Perversely, it was at that very point that a wave of calm rolled over him. All the fear of being found out could now be released. Secrets were heavy things: now that his were laid bare, he could put the weight down. Sweet relief coursed through him, and he stood straighter, his hand on his scabbard. He would make his father proud.
‘Is this true?’ he heard Calgacus ask, from far away.
Eremon turned to look at the King. He was the only man here who deserved an explanation. ‘It is true.’
This time the gasp from the audience was audible, and Eremon saw that Lorn was thrown, the smile in his eyes fading, his brows drawing together. Did he expect me to lie?
‘I am the heir,’ he declared. ‘My uncle acknowledged it, and laid his sword across his hands to me. But on my father’s death, he broke his oath. Those men he could not buy, he cowed into submission. My followers and I held out against a warband of one hundred, but were eventually driven to the shore. There, we escaped. To Alba.’
Calgacus waved to quiet his men, for the muttering was growing louder.
But it was Lorn who spoke first. ‘You admit this?’
Eremon locked eyes with him. ‘Yes.’
One of the Caledonii chieftains interrupted. ‘My lord! This exile lied to us. We did well not to listen to him.’
Eremon rounded on the man. ‘I did not lie. Nor did I lie to this druid.’ Glancing at Gelert, he allowed the contempt to drip from his words.
‘Do not listen to him, lord,’ Gelert began, and a host of other voices joined him.<
br />
But as the din grew in volume, Calgacus finally roared, ‘Quiet!’ The lash of his voice was impressive, and had the desired effect. ‘I wish to hear the prince of Erin speak. And the next person to say anything,’ he glared at Gelert, Lorn, and at his own men, ‘will have to fight with me, hand to hand. Now sit down, all of you.’
In a moment Eremon was alone in the middle of the floor again, but this time the hostility in the room was palpable.
‘I did not lie,’ he said again. ‘The druid asked me if I could help the Epidii against the Romans, and this is what I agreed to. And so far, I am fulfilling my bargain.’ He swept them all with proud eyes, and his voice grew louder. ‘Yes, I am exiled, and yes, my uncle is King. And no, I do not have more than a score of men sworn to me. But I tell you this: I have studied how the Romans fight. I met with Agricola himself, and saw how they move and camp and think. Under my leadership, we destroyed a Roman fort. I am as valuable to you as I ever was when you thought me a landed prince – more so, for I have something to prove, something to win!’ He speared Calgacus with his eyes, his head high. ‘If the Epidii break the alliance with me, then others in Alba would welcome a leader such as I. Mark me.’
Lastly he looked at Lorn. ‘Mark also that this man who accuses me, who sought to bring me low, is the fiercest warrior of the Epidii.’
Lorn’s eyes widened.
‘The druid forged this breach between us, but in doing so, has played right into Roman hands.’ He appealed directly to Lorn. ‘We are brothers-in-arms. If we cannot hold a tribe together, then how can we hold Alba? How can we resist the Romans? You saw them, you fought beside me. You know I’m right.’
Lorn broke his gaze and put his head down, shaking it.
There was silence, but of what kind, Eremon could not tell. Then Calgacus was by his side. ‘Prince, how old are you?’
‘Twenty-one years, my lord.’
‘So at such an age, when faced with the vilest of betrayals, the loss of a father, and one hundred warriors to your score, you made your escape with your men’s lives intact?’
Eremon’s heart leaped at the light in the King’s eye. ‘Yes.’
‘You then crossed a sea with nothing, but managed to win an alliance within a moon. You attacked the invaders and won. You crossed Alba to challenge us, the strongest of tribes, and faced down a council of hard men, using bold words to turn our hearts. Not once, but twice.’
Eremon smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘And do you plan to seek your throne, prince?’
‘On my father’s honour, my lord. And I will win it back.’
‘I can well believe it.’ The King’s mouth lifted in a private smile, and he turned to face his men. Before he spoke, he reached out and put a hand on Eremon’s shoulder.
‘My council has made its decision for the tribe, and I must abide by it. But I say this to you all: here stands the most courageous and resourceful of men. As he says, he is even more valuable as an ally because of who he is and what he has done, not in spite of it. From now on, let it be known that he has my personal support.’
There was a strangled cry from Gelert. ‘But this man gained his alliance falsely! He has no men, no army!’
Calgacus’s disdain for the druid was clear. ‘Then we admire his bravery all the more; to take so little and turn it into so much! Such a man makes a true king: you should thank Manannán for bringing him to you.’
Gelert’s eyes blazed with a wild rage. ‘We gave him our Ban Cré, made him the father of our royal heir!’
‘His blood is noble enough. But then, there is the matter of the Lady Rhiann.’ Calgacus faced Eremon. ‘Her honour must be maintained.’
Eremon nodded. ‘The year-marriage can be broken when we return to Dunadd.’
‘It is well.’
Gelert’s mouth dropped open. The hatred in his eyes scalded Eremon’s skin, and then without another word he gathered his cloak around him and swept from the hall. Lorn followed him, hesitantly, it seemed, and glanced back at Eremon once.
The Caledonii nobles stood stiffly, unsure how to react to Eremon in the light of their King’s pronouncement. Eremon’s men swirled around him, but behind them, Eremon could see the eagle eyes of Calgacus, regarding him with pleasure. Well done, my son, they seemed to say.
Eremon had never heard those words from his father.
For the first time since he left Erin, the hard knot of betrayal around his heart began to ease.
Rhiann had sought refuge from her humiliation over Drust in the house of the Caledonii Ban Cré. She was there, showing the old priestess a new wound herb she had gained from the traders, when Caitlin’s flying feet found her.
‘Rhiann, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ Caitlin’s chest was heaving as she struggled to draw breath. ‘I ran the length of the walls and back!’
‘What is it?’
Caitlin glanced at the other priestess, hesitating. The old woman’s instincts were keenly honed; with twinkling eyes she excused herself, suddenly remembering a prior engagement.
Caitlin hopped from foot to foot with impatience, as the woman gathered a wool shawl around her and took up her medicine bag. As soon as the door flap fell back into place, Caitlin drew Rhiann to the hearth-bench, the words spilling from her mouth, relating everything that had transpired at the council.
‘Oh, Rhiann, you should have seen him!’ Caitlin’s face was glowing. ‘And Calgacus stood up by Eremon, and Gelert was chased from the hall!’
Rhiann listened, the rosemary leaves crushed in her fist, until at last Caitlin faltered.
‘Goddess!’ Caitlin’s glow faded. ‘I was not thinking, Rhiann, I’m sorry. He lied to you, I know. This must hurt you.’
Rhiann stared at the wall, the pungent herb smarting her eyes. All along she knew he was hiding something, that he was not all he seemed. Yet, as his successes grew, she had ceased to think on it.
Caitlin’s small, white hand covered her own. ‘Rhiann, if only you could have heard what he actually said – you would not be as upset, I know it. I’ll tell you what I remember.’ And she repeated Eremon’s speech, nearly word for word. ‘He means to do the best for us all. He was forced into an impossible situation, but he faced it with courage. That counts for something, Rhiann, doesn’t it?’
Rhiann glanced at her, saw the hopeful look. ‘I – I just need some time to think on this.’
‘Of course you do! But,’ Caitlin bit her lip, ‘it doesn’t need to change everything. You know that Eremon is the war leader we need. And now he has the personal support of Calgacus.’ At Rhiann’s silence, she rushed on. ‘However, I know that does not change how you feel. And Rhiann, as a warrior, I follow him, but my loyalty is with you. If you want to cast him out, then I will support you.’
Caitlin could win a smile from a stone.
Eventually, after many reassurances, Rhiann convinced Caitlin to leave her there so that she could think. And how did she really feel?
She brushed the rosemary needles from her fingers, swallowing the lump of anger. The liar! Gaining her hand when he was a landless, friendless nobody! If the truth had been known at the start, she never would have been forced to marry him. And then he had dared to criticize her, last night, for not being what he expected!
It was then that her thoughts roamed to Drust, and the bitterness of the little scene in his workshed rose up once more. Her hopes there had been extinguished, but where did that leave her? If she did reject Eremon, would the council just marry her to someone else? Or, if Caitlin married, would they leave her alone? Perhaps, after all, she could join Linnet on the mountain.
Perhaps.
Think! She must think, and quickly.
She emerged from the lodge, expecting to see a crowd of people staring at her. But everyone was going about their business as usual. As she reached the yard before the gate tower, a party on horses was leaving the dun: Gelert, his druids, and some of the Epidii warriors. The Chief Druid must be going home, after his humiliation.
She peered at each warrior in turn, but could not discern Lorn among them.
Rhiann paused, twisting her hair around her finger. She knew she would be receiving another visitor soon, but not what she would say to him. So she took herself up the stairs to the walkway, on the stretch that faced the sea. It did not make her harder to find, but at least the breeze on the sunlit water braced her spirits, and gave her courage.
Sure enough, it was not long.
There was a cough behind her. ‘Lady,’ Eremon said formally, ‘I assume you have heard my news.’
She did not turn her head, but merely nodded. His presence so close beside her made the anger and hurt surge up anew, and all the reasoned arguments retreat.
‘You can see why I could not tell you.’ He leaned on the palisade next to her. ‘I truly believe that I can do the best for your people. But I needed the chance to prove myself; to show you who I really was, regardless of my kin.’
At her continued silence, he straightened, and from the corner of her eye she saw him put his hand on his sword. ‘I have come now to agree to the severing of our betrothal, which we can finalize at Dunadd.’
She snorted with exasperation and turned, folding her arms, and he stepped back in surprise. ‘Eremon.’ She struggled to keep her voice level. ‘Caitlin told me every single thing that you said in council. And it was true – every word.’
Eremon’s eyebrows rose, and for once, he looked unsure.
‘You are valuable, and you have proven yourself. Calgacus backs you. With you by my side, I can also do the best for my people. I like what we’ve built.’ She paused. ‘For these reasons, I want the marriage to stand.’
He gasped, and tried to speak, but she held up a finger to stop him. ‘But Eremon, I am so angry with you that I could tear your eyes out right now! If you say one more word, that’s what I’ll do. Now leave me alone and don’t speak to me until we get home. Understand?’
He nodded, but his eyes were shining.
The deck beneath Samana’s feet heaved in the heavy swell. She clung to the mast, exhilarated at the lash of the wind on her cheeks, the drifts of spume catching in her hair. Craning, she could see only islands and dark hills and crashing surf on the rocks, for the sails of the fleet had been lost among the twisting straits.