“Go!” Bridei growled, shoving him in the chest to make sure he got his point across. As usual, as soon as Domech left, the women moved in on the now solitary king. It was just the way of things. He sighed. He usually enjoyed the attention, but not tonight. Not these women. They were too coy and too eager to please. They obeyed his every command without question. Something had changed in him and he didn’t know exactly what it was, just that what they offered was no longer enough. Maybe it was only that the anticipation of the coming battle had engaged his mind elsewhere. After all, what woman’s charms could compare to the thrill of taking Ecgfrith’s head from his shoulders?
As she tried not to stare and tried not to blush, Nessa realized that although she knew their language and much of their history, her knowledge of these people lacked the richness and fullness of everyday life. Sometimes, when she had read the ancient texts that were part of her schooling, she had wondered about the little things, like whether people shook hands when meeting, or hugged when they hadn’t seen each other in a while. And kissing. There were several words in Pictish for “kiss”, but what did that really mean? Did people kiss romantically, and with tongues? Now she knew. They most definitely did. It was hard not to openly stare at the several couples who had obviously already progressed past kissing and whose joined bodies were quite visible in front of the brightly burning fire. These people were certainly not bashful about their sexuality. It was apparently not considered unnatural or taboo to give and receive physical pleasure.
“Does it make you shy? Seeing others sharing their bodies?” Meara asked her with a little smile.
“I’m just not used to it. I mean seeing it so close.” On television or in the movies, sure, but this was not the same. The culture she had lived in all her life was much different in this regard. “My people are more…private with such things.”
And it did make her a little uncomfortable; not because she was in any way prudish, but because it was making her heart beat faster. The uninhibited show of lust and pleasure which seemed to be so natural here was something that had been long lost in the 21st century. She found it arousing, not just sexually, but spiritually as well. To be so free felt like such a natural thing. To make love without the inherent guilt and inhibition; it must be amazing. Her own eyes darted, without her permission, to Bridei.
The King was surrounded by at least six women, all apparently vying for his attention. Something that felt oddly like jealousy twisted in her stomach, but Nessa ignored it as best she could. He was beautiful to look at, she’d give him that, and certainly intimidating, but she certainly didn’t want him. At least not when she was thinking straight. She only wanted Nathan, and to go home.
Meara followed her glance and sighed wistfully. “Look at them, they are all so hopeful, but so foolish. Someday soon the King will have to produce a son or daughter. Though it is more likely he’ll eventually chose a bride from a neighboring kingdom in order to secure a strong ally, they still try to catch his eye. But they are nothing to a king whose ambition to unite the Picts runs so hot and strong. He will never see them as any more than a body to warm his bed, though even then he is terribly choosey.”
She shook her head as if his choosiness was a travesty, but her bold words made Nessa squirm; it seemed like an awfully personal thing to say about anyone, especially a respected leader. She had to keep reminding herself that she was in a very different time and place, and her own cultural sensibilities were in effect null and void. In fact, her culture didn’t even exist yet.
“Why are you telling me this?”
Meara shrugged. “It’s no secret.”
Apparently, Nessa also needed to get over her own bias of what constituted polite conversation.
More couples had joined the first few, and now there were heaving bodies in nearly every direction, some lit by the fires for all to see, and others farther back in the shadows where they were just dark silhouettes. She had known that this was the way Beltane was celebrated in the distant past, but to see it first hand was still a bit of a shock.
Meara looked upon it all with a peaceful smile. “Tonight they worship the goddess with their bodies. Male and female coming together to make one spirit.”
“And any children conceived will be especially blessed by the gods”, Nessa said, almost to herself.
“Aye. You do know something of our ways.”
Domech had come up silently behind them. He was obviously in a jovial humor as he put an arm around Meara’s shoulders, giving her an affectionate squeeze.
“The women are the keepers of the spirits and the rites. It is true that men are more concerned with fighting and things more brutal. Without women, I fear we would become no more than animals…wild beasts in the forest with no home or hearth.”
“I can certainly believe that”, Nessa mumbled. There had been quite a few men in her hometown that had barely qualified as civilized. And they tended to be single, though whether their beastly character was because they lacked the influence of a woman, or because no woman would have them, she couldn’t say. Some even took what they wanted, with no regard for anything or anyone. But did women here truly not have to worry about rape? It had been in the back of her mind, that Bridei might exert his power over her in that way, even though he had implied he was above such things.
“So women here are safe…from men, I mean. There is no rape?”
Domech shrugged. “Our people believe in the sanctity of a woman, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t men among us who have no honor, who will take what they desire at any cost, even knowing the cost might be death, should they be caught. And, by the way, if a woman commits a crime, her punishment will be the same as any man.” He gave her a meaningful look.
Nessa opened her mouth to once again declare her innocence, but the sudden staccato beating of drums and a commotion around the largest fire drew all of their attention. Domech slapped them both lightly on the shoulder. “Ah, the ceremonies are about to begin. Come.”
Meara took her hand, leading her closer to where a crowd was beginning to gather. Domech disappeared into the flickering light and she soon lost sight of him. For one crazy moment she considered trying to break free and make a run for it, but quickly dismissed the idea. Angus was still missing, and she might never find him on her own. It was best to wait until Bridei’s men tracked him down before she tried to get away. A failed attempt would only end with her tied to a post again, or much worse. Earning everyone’s trust was her best bet. The more freedom she was allowed, the more chances she would have to escape.
So she followed just behind Meara, in a wake of the scent of herbs and spices that wafted off her clothing, to a long row of fires glowing like small suns in the darkness. She counted a total of ten. Already a group of men stood on a small hill above them, and they were chanting rhythmically in that old language of the priests that she now recognized, but didn’t understand. The sound of their voices seemed to reach inside her body, touching every part of her.
Soon, a group of women filed out of the crowd, each carrying a burning torch. They were topless, but wore long, flowing skirts. Their bare skin glowed in the firelight, and their breasts were painted with beautiful, intricate designs. Nessa watched in awe as they began to dance with their torches, moving in and out and around the fires as the men continued to chant. Their skirts billowed around them as they twirled, and she worried that the fabric might catch fire if they got too close to the flames.
Next, a group of ancient looking women came forward, some walking with wooden canes, others bent at the waist as if the burden of life had finally grown too heavy. Each of them stood next to one of the fires, and as the men chanted and the girls danced, the old women threw something into the flames that made the fires jump up and roar for a moment, sending sparks flying up to the sky, and a cheer rising from the crowd. She didn’t know what it all meant, exactly, but Nessa had the vague idea from her readings that this was a ceremony of re-birth, and the passing of the mantle of
life from old to young. It was a moment of pure joy and belonging for everyone around her, and Nessa suddenly felt small and alone. A part of her wanted to belong too; to be a part of the magic and closeness and community that was so alive here.
Modern-day humans crave this, without ever knowing, she thought. The best-selling books, the blockbuster movies: Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter. Magic. Legend and ritual. The human soul remembered something so ancient, so powerful, that it hungered to worship it, to claim a place within it. Maybe it was our origins in some dark and mystical place and time, or maybe a long-lost connection to a god that is Nature itself.
What must it be like to live so close to the Earth, and to know that you are a part of it? Of the circle of life? To really understand that you are at its mercy? No one remembered that anymore. Humanity had been fooled into thinking there was nothing stronger or smarter than themselves, that the world would go on forever, with them in it. They were wrong. Here, in this moment, despite all of her troubles, Nessa finally knew what it would be to belong to the world around her, with all of its joys and mysteries. She knew now why she loved so much to have her bare feet on the Earth and her hands in the soil, bringing forth life. If the circumstances had been different, she realized that she could have been quite happy to live here among these people. Something about this place and time spoke to a part of her soul that she hadn’t been conscious of, before. The most ancient, primitive parts of her wanted to dance around those fires with the other women, with the same joy and wild abandon. A single tear, born of some emotion she couldn’t quite name, rolled down her cheek.
From his seat on the hill above the crowd, Bridei watched the ceremonies. When the fires flared, he tilted his head back and relished the heat on his skin. Fire was life. Fire was power. It was a gift from the gods, and one they were forever grateful for. From above the crowd, he could also watch his captive carefully, though she would be a fool to run. He had people all around her, guarding her, though she would not have known it. They blended in perfectly with everyone else, just as he had commanded.
No, he watched her for another reason, one he was loath to admit, even to himself. He couldn’t not watch her. His eyes were drawn to the long lines of her body, and the glow of her skin in the firelight. The loose tunic she wore hid most of her womanly curves, but he knew they were there. He’d seen them clearly when she’d first arrived, wet and with the fabric of her strange clothing clinging to her. His eyes kept finding her in the crowd again and again, as if she was the one thing he must look for. He told himself it was because she was a mystery, and a possible danger to his people, but even his cock knew that was a lie. It seemed to have developed a mind of its own of late.
Lair returned breathless from her dancing and draped herself over his shoulder, her hands trailing seductively down the taught muscles of his chest. He let her. After all, she suited his needs well, with her lush curves and self-proclaimed disinterest in ever being wed. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to have him to herself…he knew she did.
She dipped her hand lower, drawing teasing fingers over his cock through the thin fabric of his pants. “You are ready for me.”
“Aye, it would seem that I am.” Not for you, but for another.
Without waiting for permission as she should have, the brazen woman freed his cock and climbed onto his lap, pulling up her tunic and sinking down onto him with a sigh. As she rocked her hips against him he let his head fall back, though more out of angst than pleasure; this moment felt wrong to him somehow.
“What is wrong, Bridei? You seem quite far away tonight in your thoughts.” She bit gently at his neck and drew her fingernails down his chest, grazing his nipples; things that she knew usually drove him wild.
“I’m tired tonight, Lair, that’s all. And my head is full of my responsibilities. I’ve been hard at work reigning in the northern tribes for more than ten years now, and there is still more work to be done. So much battle takes its toll.”
“Aye, you need to rest. Let me take care of you. Relax.”
Her fingers worked his shoulders as she continued to ride him, but the muscles only seemed to grow tighter under her touch. Still, his body could not help but respond to the sex, and as he grew closer to his peak, his own hips began to move, instinctively seeking release.
“That’s it my King, come for me”, Lair crooned to him. “Take your pleasure from my body.”
He did. He felt his seed rising, his loins tensing, and the wave of pleasure beginning at the base of his spine and spreading out in waves. He came, groaning and digging his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips until at last the pleasure passed. Usually he enjoyed sex with great fervor, but tonight it felt hollow, and he found himself wondering once more if Domech was right. Maybe sex was better with love. Wouldn’t the Earth Goddess make it so? She who valued a fertile bond of body and soul between man and woman above all else? He wondered if he would ever know the difference.
The next morning, Nessa awoke and sat up as far as the ropes would allow, only to feel a familiar trickle of dampness against her thigh. She drew in a horrified breath. Great. Just great. Why couldn’t she have had her period a week ago? She pressed her legs together tighter, mortification already causing her cheeks to heat. She knew she had to get someone’s attention before the situation got any worse.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
She waited several long moments. Nothing. “Hello?” she called again, louder, then again, until she felt like she was practically screaming. Finally she heard footsteps on the stairs.
Please, please let it be a woman. But of course it wasn’t; she just wasn’t that lucky.
It was Bridei. She squeezed her eyes shut and cringed.
“Is there a problem lass?”
“Aye, as a matter of fact there is. But…” She could already feel her cheeks burning. Had she ever been more humiliated? “I… I actually need help from a woman.”
“Why a woman?”
“Because I have a…a woman’s problem.”
He looked genuinely confused. “What is a woman’s problem?”
She blew out a breath, resigned to her mortification. “Oh, for god’s sake, I’m having my…my bleeding time. I need something to catch the blood!”
The confusion left his brow. “Well why didn’t you just say so? Are you ashamed to be a woman? Ashamed that your body is fertile and honored by the goddess with life-giving blood? That is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard.” He laughed. “Where do you come from, lass?”
“No…I’m not ashamed.” Maybe a little embarrassed. Ok, a lot embarrassed. “It’s a private matter, where I come from. We don’t usually discuss it with men.”
“It must be a very strange place indeed. How do the men know when their women are bleeding? Or when they’re fertile and ready to accept his seed to make a child?”
“Oh god, I don’t know.” She dropped her head and groaned in misery. He laughed again. He seemed genuinely amused at her humiliation.
“I’ll call someone to help you, then. A woman.”
“Thank you.”
He left, and Veda came to help soon after, and it turned out that the women used an absorbent cloth held in place with a soft leather belt. It was quite comfortable and practical.
It wasn’t that he trusted her any more than before, but over the next several days Bridei entrusted her to a select few of the local women. Nessa suspected she was also being watched by others, since she saw the same few men nearly everywhere she went. There had still been no sign of Angus, though she asked about him every chance she got. She refused to give up hope, because that would mean not only mourning her uncle, but her grandmother and Nathan too.
And it would mean mourning life as she had always known it, to live here forever among people who didn’t know or trust her, in a culture she was realizing more every day that she knew very little about, even though she knew some history and could speak the language.
To keep her mind off her seemingl
y insurmountable problems, she decided to force herself to focus entirely on the moment at hand, if only for a little while. And at this moment she was walking with Veda, on the way to help her with her daily chores. As they turned a corner around a row of houses, she could suddenly see down into a small valley, and in it was, unmistakably, a garden. A very large garden. Her mood picked up just a little. She loved to grow things.
“You have gardens here? Oh, of course—you must. I’ve been eating vegetables.” Carrots and turnips, cabbage and onions, and a few other things she hadn’t quite recognized. She was so happy that she had talked her way into this small amount of freedom; she could lose herself for hours in this kind of work. If her hands were kept busy, maybe her mind would settle enough to come up with a way out of this mess.
Nessa had practically begged Bridei to untie her and let her go outside. She was suffocating in that room, unable to even stand and pace, and there was only one small square of sky to look at, framed in the only window. She needed the sun on her face and fresh air in her lungs or she was quickly going to lose all hope. He had finally relented and left her under the care of Veda, but not without a stern warning to the woman to keep an eye on her.
“She may help you with your work, but she is not to be left alone for even a moment. And she is not to be trusted with anything more than your name.”
Veda had somberly nodded her agreement, and Nessa now followed her eagerly to a huge garden plot hidden behind one of the massive stone walls circling the settlement. Back home, she had been working to convert her grandmother’s sheep farm into vegetables, and she had quickly begun to understand why sheep farming was so popular in Scotland. The sheep took care of themselves, grazing on the plentiful grass and heather. Vegetables, by comparison, were extremely needy. Still, it was something she loved, and she had been determined to make it work. Already she’d secured a few sales to high-end restaurants in Inverness, and Gram had been so proud…
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