The White Mare: The Dalraida Trilogy, Book One (63 page)

Didius strode along behind them now, his hand resting on the dagger sheath, his eyes darting from beneath the brow guard of the helmet as if he expected an attack on Rhiann at any moment.

‘I do love it here!’ Caitlin threw her arms out to each side and leaned over the palisade. ‘The sea is so flat and you can look out so far … like you can fly away!’ She glanced at Rhiann, her face clouding. ‘Not that I don’t love Dunadd,’ she amended hastily. ‘The view of the island is beautiful, too.’

Rhiann laughed. ‘You are allowed to love more than one place at a time, cousin.’ She cocked her head back at Didius. ‘And what do you think of this fine stronghold?’

Didius remained grave. ‘It is very fine indeed. Although a different angle of gate approach would put attackers at a greater disadvantage.’

‘Don’t let Calgacus hear you speak so, Didius.’ Rhiann winked at Caitlin. ‘You would find it hard to stay silent before him.’

‘He’ll have you working on the gate before you know it,’ Caitlin added, a smile hovering at the corner of her mouth.

But Didius was looking behind them, his eyes widening and Rhiann heard a musical voice speak her name, low, breathy. Just as she remembered it. She turned.

Drust was dressed soberly for once, in a dark blue tunic and ochre-dyed trousers, his skin burnished by the sun and wind, until he was all dusk and gold and copper. He still looked beautiful. But her heart did not cry out this time, nor did her breathing quicken. The last time she saw that face, it was wet from some other woman’s kisses. Those broad shoulders were being grasped by long, feminine fingers. Now, his nearness did not make her feel warm and trembling, but sick, and cold. As she stood there, face to face with nothing but illusion, the last of him slipped from her heart.

‘Rhiann, do not look like that.’ His hand closed over her arm.

Caitlin tactfully drew a few steps away, taking Didius with her.

Rhiann lowered her voice. ‘Do you mind taking your hand off me?’

Drust’s brown eyes bored into her. ‘Yes, I mind.’

She made to pull away, impatiently, but he only gripped her hand. ‘I know we did not part well. But I missed you when you left. I was foolish.’

Rhiann smiled sweetly. ‘No,
I
was foolish. Let us leave it at that.’

‘I don’t wish to leave it.’

She took a breath. ‘Drust, let me go,
now
!’

In answer, he tried to pull her closer, and that was when she smelled the ale on his breath. The feasting on the plain had begun that morning, and in the camp, there would be as many willing women as casks of ale.

‘I mean it!’ She dug her nails into his palm, and it was only then that he released her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Didius press forward, his hand quivering over his dagger.

When Drust became aware of the Roman’s approach he fell back, barking a laugh. ‘Strange little guard dog you have there, lady.’

‘I did not think I would need one here.’

‘No.’ Drust smoothed down his tunic. ‘We’ll speak later, then.’

‘If you have something to say when you’re sober.’

Flushing, Drust pushed past them and made for the stairs, and Didius turned and watched him, his hackles up.

Rhiann stood for a long moment, watching the space where Drust had disappeared. And deep inside, she sighed. The golden dream of the man must have been false after all. She had to let it die, for good.

The feast that night in the encampment was a rowdy affair, as would be expected with so many men-at-arms together in one place.

‘I am still waiting for some of the distant chieftains to arrive,’ Calgacus yelled over the pipes, as he and Eremon stood by one of the spits of roast deer. ‘Even Maelchon is coming from as far as the Orcades.’ He waved a half-eaten duck wing in a northerly direction.

Eremon swallowed his deer meat. ‘The Orcades islands?’

‘Yes. People know little about him. He does not trade much with the rest of us, and yet by all accounts he has a powerful warband.’ ‘And do you think we will gain the support we need from the other kings?’

Calgacus shrugged. ‘Once blazing, we burn bright, prince. But we are slow to light, as you have seen.’ He took a bite and chewed it. ‘There were two more sea raids, on Taexali villages.’

‘
What
?’ Eremon stared at him. ‘Then surely the kings will see sense!’

Calgacus shook his head, swallowing. ‘I don’t know. Raids we are familiar with: tribes raid us; we raid them back. But no one has ever even faced the thought of an invading army.’

‘You don’t sound hopeful, then.’

Calgacus smiled. ‘Our last council was full of surprises, prince. This one will no doubt prove to be the same.’

Eremon grinned back. ‘Don’t remind me.’

‘And in what state is your alliance with the Epidii now?’

‘Strong, in view of the attack on our port. Although …’ Eremon glanced away, embarrassed. ‘In the long dark I paid another visit to a Roman fort – an unwilling visit this time.’

‘This I had not heard!’

Eremon hesitated, and then squared his shoulders. ‘I made a mistake. I was alone when I was captured. My men then destroyed the garrison.’

The King’s eyebrows rose. ‘The judgement of the best king can falter. But mistake or no, you have an uncanny ability to dally with these Romans and escape unscathed. My trust in you was not misplaced – you must tell me the full story.’

For a brief moment, Eremon thought about mentioning Rhiann’s part in that episode. But although Calgacus was the son of a priestess, Eremon doubted that he would respect a man who had to be rescued by his wife.

As if this omission conjured her into being, Calgacus suddenly exclaimed, ‘Lady Rhiann!’

Rhiann gave the King the kiss of greeting. As this was an informal feast, she had not worn her royal jewels, and her hair was unbraided, just as it had been that awful night when they were last here. Eremon could not let a scene like
that
happen again, especially not with Drust around. The thought that she would see the King’s son tonight, and the wondering about what she felt for him, had been pricking at Eremon’s heart for hours.

And here she was, smiling up at him. Immediately, it struck him that this was a real smile, which reached her eyes. A smile for him alone. Some of the tension unwound from his shoulders.

Calgacus excused himself, and Eremon made a show of looking over Rhiann’s shoulder. ‘And where is the redoubtable Didius? Fighting off wolves? Bears?’

Rhiann wrinkled her nose at him. ‘I let him go to bed, if you must know. He seems ill.’

‘Really? What a pity.’

‘Do your men know what a waspish tongue you have?’

Eremon grinned. ‘I save it all for you.’

‘Hmm.’ She beckoned to a servant holding a pitcher of mead, who handed her a cup and filled it. ‘For your information, he did protect me today.’

Eremon noted how she tilted her face away, and his grin faded. ‘What do you mean?’

A faint sigh. ‘Drust had been drinking ale, and he tried to speak with me. I pulled away and he wouldn’t let me go.’

‘Oh.’ Eremon watched her warily. ‘So?’

She glanced up, her smile wry. ‘So … my Didius postured with his dagger, and sent Drust into retreat! I told you the Roman would help me.’

‘He should not have touched you.’ Eremon was not speaking of Didius.

Rhiann held his eyes. ‘No,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t want him to.’

A man barrelled into them then, as a fight broke out on the fringes of the group. Rhiann fell off balance, and Eremon caught her, then shouldered their way clear. ‘Come,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘Conaire and Caitlin will be nuzzling somewhere more peaceful, no doubt.’

But when they found their friends, and places were made on logs by the fire, Eremon did not release Rhiann’s hand.

And as Aedan sang of the thrice-born Etain, fairest maid to ever walk in Erin, Rhiann hardly noticed Drust join his father, or who he spoke to. She let herself become lost in the sparks of the bonfire, the voices soaring to the stars, and the warm nest of fingers enclosing her hand.

For now, these were enough.

When the house emptied the next morning, and only Eithne was there, pinning up Rhiann’s hair, Didius crept from his bedclothes to stand before her. ‘Lady,’ he whispered.

Rhiann peered at him from under Eithne’s arms. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, as if he’d spent a sleepless night.

‘Yes, Didius? Are you not feeling better?’

The Roman opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Then he took a shaking breath. ‘That man … on the walls … yesterday. Can he harm you?’

‘What are you talking about?’

Didius ducked his head and fidgeted with his dagger. ‘Are you … close to him?’

Rhiann put up her hand to still Eithne’s fingers. ‘No.’

As the Roman’s stance relaxed with relief, a sudden suspicion entered Rhiann’s mind. ‘Didius.’ Her voice was stern. ‘What do you know about Drust?’

Didius’s chin dropped lower, and he would not meet her eyes. She leaned forward and took his hand. ‘Tell me.’

‘I have seen him.’ It was no more than a whisper.

Rhiann caught her breath. ‘Seen him where?’

Didius looked up then, anguish in his eyes. ‘Don’t make me choose. I just don’t want him to hurt you.’

She turned his palm up, and put her hand over it. ‘Didius, if you don’t tell me, then he could hurt me very much. Now, have you met him in a town before?’

Didius shook his head miserably, and Rhiann’s heart jumped. ‘
Didius, did you see him with the army
?’

The Roman hesitated, and then nodded, his shoulders slumping. ‘Yes. Enough times to remember him. He met with Agricola in the camp.’

Rhiann gasped. ‘He is a traitor?’ She jumped to her feet, scattering hair pins everywhere.

Eithne gulped. ‘Lady …?’

‘I must tell Eremon.’ Rhiann threw her cloak around her shoulders, but before she left she stood before Didius. ‘We owe you great thanks, Didius. Such a man could prove our undoing.’

Didius’s lip trembled. ‘I betrayed my people, for you. What he had to say to Agricola may have helped us. I will never forgive myself.’

Rhiann took him gently by the shoulders. ‘Nevertheless, you have won our gratitude for ever.’

But Didius turned his face to the wall and would not speak.

The men had gone hunting, but Eremon had to return early when Dòrn stepped on a twisted root and bruised his leg. Watching out for him from the walls, Rhiann hurried to the stableyard and, as he dismounted, murmured her news.

Eremon swore and thrust Dòrn’s reins at the horse-boy, drawing Rhiann into one of the empty stalls. ‘The treacherous little worm. Wait until I get my hands on him!’

‘Eremon, calm down. You cannot shame Calgacus before all these kings by breaking his peace and fighting with his son. They will see it as Didius’s word against his, after all.’

Eremon swore again, scraping his hair back with both hands. Then suddenly, his eyes gleamed. ‘I know what I’ll do.’

‘What?’

‘Why, simply give him the chance to tell his father himself.’

‘And if he won’t?’

‘Then I’m not breaking the peace, am I? He is a traitor, and will be treated as such.’

Eremon’s moment presented itself almost immediately. More and more fights were breaking out in the camp, and so, on the first clear day after the rain, Calgacus ordered a contest of sports to keep the warriors out of trouble. There would be foot and chariot races, spear throwing, archery,
fidchell
and
brandubh
matches – and sword duels.

‘What are you going to do?’ Rhiann hurried to keep pace with Eremon’s strides as they crossed the wet grass of the sporting field, a wide meadow along the river.

‘Just wait and see.’

‘Eremon, I am part of this! Now tell me!’

He stopped and took her arms. ‘Rhiann.’ He swallowed. ‘Did Drust … shame you?’

The blood rushed to her cheeks. ‘Yes.’

‘Then we both have a score to settle. But let me do it my way. You
always talk of balance: well, some balance needs to be restored with this Caledonii princeling.’

‘You’re not going to challenge him, Eremon! He is no warrior, and Calgacus knows you know that!’

Eremon’s face was stone. ‘He is of the warrior class, which means he’s been taught how to fight. It’s time he showed that his sword is more than just decoration. Come!’

Chapter 63

E
remon paused as a glittering rain of spears arced through the air, the sun catching on their tips. Beyond them, he could hear the galloping thud of arrows into targets long before the archers were visible over the heads of the crowd.

Conaire was clapping and whooping at Caitlin, who had just taken her last shot against an opponent twice her size. Caitlin was leaning on her bow, looking proud and rather abashed, as the other warrior squared up to shoot.

Conaire caught sight of Eremon and Rhiann, and grinned. ‘She’s going to win me a fine leather belt – I’ve already bet on it.’

‘Brother, I need you to come with me.’

‘Wait a moment …’ Caitlin’s opponent released his arrow, and it struck the wool-stuffed target at the edge, far from Caitlin’s white barb. ‘Yes!’ Conaire yelled, as the watching crowd erupted into cheers. ‘Yes, she did it!’