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The darkness was complete now. The crowd dispersed quietly by torchlight onto the forest path. Some were already taking long draughts of the wormwood mead that would open their sight to the spirits of Winter’s Eve, hoping for a glimpse of those they had lost.
I stood at the bank, Neha at my feet, while Prydd and the lesser journeymen collected the instruments. I felt at peace with what I had done. Later, in the township, there would be fires, meat and dancing throughout the night. Never did the tribes rejoice in their living more fiercely than when they had witnessed a gift.
‘Mead, Kendra?’ Rhain held forth his bladder.
I drank thirstily. The strong water spread through my limbs, melding with the wolfsbane that lingered in my blood.
‘Shall I walk back with you?’ he asked.
‘I will stay a little longer.’
‘Then I will stay also. You should not be unguarded on Winter’s Eve.’
‘Thank you, Songman. But I would prefer to be alone.’
The last of the crowd were leaving the shore.
Rhain nodded and kissed me farewell.
I watched as he and the journeymen disappeared into the trees, then turned back to the lake. Now that my Kendra’s work had been completed, I hoped to make my own claim on this night’s sacred promise.
Following the lake edge, I walked north of the boy’s silt grave, until I reached a section of shore obstructed by willows. Slipping between their branches, I found myself in a chamber edged by a grove of watery trees. Mist from the lake met the drifting fronds.
In such a place, perhaps, I would see him.
I wore only my blood-soaked dress. I unbelted my sword and tore off the string of bells that marked me as Kendra.
Unmetalled, I stood at the water’s brink, staring across the black surface. Would he come? I felt half-formed for the wanting of it. ‘Taliesin,’ I whispered, shivering. ‘Are you there?’
The lake was silent. Distant shouts from the celebration and the pulse of a drum drifted down from Llanmelin. Neha sniffed, indifferent, at the shoreline.
I prayed to the Mothers. Had I not made reparation for at least some of my mistakes? Had I not honoured them with my every thought, every gesture, since those mistakes were made? ‘Taliesin, come,’ I murmured.
I hung my head under the weight of stillness that met my prayer.
Neha growled, alert to a sound in the forest behind me.
Was it him? I listened intently. Neha barked and I hushed her to quietness.
A faint crunch of footsteps in the distance, louder as they approached.
‘Taliesin?’ I called through the mist.
The footsteps drew closer.
‘Praise the Mothers,’ I murmured, my heart galloping.
The footsteps stopped just beyond the screen of the willow.
‘Reveal yourself.’ My whispered voice trembled. ‘Stand before me, my love.’
The fronds rustled as he pushed between them.
For one exquisite moment it was Taliesin in the darkness, before Caradog’s powerful scent told me otherwise. ‘What are you doing?’ I spluttered in shock. ‘Why are you here?’ Disappointment robbed me of my graces.
‘I saw that you did not return with the journeymen…’ He paused. ‘You seemed unsteady after the rite…I was unsure of your safety.’
‘My safety? I can survive the forest better than any. Have I not proven that, at least?’
He stood unmoving. The thin moon’s light was smothered by the grove and I could not see his expression. ‘Even the most powerful warrior can fall if the wound is well-placed,’ he said.
My heart softened. I knew that he bore his leadership heavily and now I was among those whom he believed he must protect. ‘Be free of duty to me,’ I told him. ‘Now you have made me slay a tribesman, there is little left for me to fear.’
‘Who is Taliesin?’
I flinched at the word on his lips. I had told no one in Albion of his name.
‘He is…’ How should I have answered? Who was this man, this Taliesin, whose memory would not release me? He was someone I had loved to the limits of my being. But he was lost to me. And I had not yet understood it.
‘Just a teacher I lost in the slaughter of Cad,’ I answered. ‘I thought I might have glimpsed him this night.’
‘Perhaps I should become a teacher,’ he said. ‘If they call forth such affection.’
I said nothing, gathering my bells and sword.
He walked to the bank and dropped to a crouch. ‘Shall I wait for you?’ he asked. ‘Is your business here finished?’
‘Do as you please.’
‘Then it pleases me that you sit with me.’
The mead and wolfsbane had ebbed from my veins, leaving my mouth dry and my forehead aching. I had hoped to speak with Caradog again, but tonight I had little appetite for it. ‘For a moment only, as I am tired.’
I squatted beside him and looked over the lake. The moon’s bright lip seemed to smirk from the water.
‘Three days from now we will have struck,’ he said.
How different he was from the one I had loved. Caradog was not wounded. His spirit sailed forth unquestioningly, its certainty unbreached. And yet there had been that scent, that fear. I could still catch a trace of it when he moved his head close: soft, faintly curdled, like the scent of a child. He was not unbreachable. But it was only through the adder’s senses that I had seen it. ‘Why do you do it?’ I asked him. ‘Why do you fight on when so many others have accepted defeat?
He looked at me, his eyes catching the moon’s thin light. ‘Because I was born for this war.’
I startled at the claim. ‘Do you admit no doubt?’ I asked. ‘No fear?’
‘Of course there is fear. If I did not stand with fear, I would be no war chief.’
‘Is it death that frightens you?’
‘No,’ he paused. ‘I fear the loss of our sovereignty.’
‘And yet you would ask chiefs to relinquish their sovereignty to you…in country that is not your own.’ These were not the lands of his ancestors. He held no blood claim to them.
He chuckled. ‘I will earn sovereignty by defending it. This war is the Mothers’ test to prove I am worthy of ruling the breadth of their country.’
I stared in disbelief. He spoke as if he were the earth, and the tribespeople, the Romans, and the Mothers were the stars that circled it. ‘Surely you do not suggest that the Mothers summon the Romans? Against their own people?’
‘I do not say it freely, Ailia, but I trust you to hear it. The Mothers determine who rules their land. They are powerful enough to repel this army if they so choose. They allow this war to test our bonds to these tribelands. To test me. No other has the command to lead Albion to victory.’
I shook my head. ‘Nor the ambition.’
‘Is ambition not needed? The Roman Empire has claimed more land than any before it—Aegyptus, Africa, Anatolia…it would take years to walk its span. If I can defeat this army, I am defeating the greatest power in the world.’
And then, with perfect clarity, I saw the shape of the fear that I had smelled so distinctly. His fear was not of this war. His fear was what he would be without it. I felt a power in the knowing of it. There was a frailty in him, as in any soul. One that even he was not aware of.
His features were hidden in the darkness, but his voice was clear and close. ‘What of you, Ailia?’ he said. ‘Why have you come to fight with me? Are you not afraid?’
I stroked Neha’s back. What held me to this war? Like Caradog, I was steered by the Mothers. But I knew they were victims of this war, as much as its makers. They needed protection. I knew that what was most powerful, was also most fragile. Rome knew this too, and this was why she must be fought.
But beneath all this, there was another reason. For most of my life I had been without skin, untethered and unformed. Even with skin, even as the Kendra, I still had no home, no belonging. Caradog and I were the same. The war told us who we were.
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A shadow of confusion passed over Euvrain’s face as Caradog and I entered the feast hall. ‘Forgive our lateness, noblewoman,’ I said, sitting beside her. ‘I knew deep trance during the rite and I remained at the lake until it passed. Caradog lingered to ensure my safe return.’
Euvrain smiled. ‘He is as much shepherd as warrior.’ She sipped her mead. ‘Are you restored now?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A little tired.’
‘Exhausted I am sure.’ She placed her hand on top of mine. It was as cool as water. She wore no cloak and her blue dress was pinned to reveal the swell of her shoulder. ‘What did you speak of as you returned?’ she asked, drawing her hand back to her lap.
I paused. Like Rhain, she compelled my truthfulness. ‘We spoke of his motivations for war.’
‘Oh?’ She frowned. ‘He told you of Togidumnus?’
‘No…’ I knew that Caradog’s oldest brother had been killed in the Medway battle, only days after Rome’s arrival, but nothing more.
‘It would have surprised me if he did. He speaks little of his family…’ She lowered her voice. ‘But it is much of why he fights.’
‘To avenge the death?’
‘Yes.’ Her face was turned so that I alone might hear her words. The scent of nut oil rose from her throat. ‘And to prove himself worthy of surviving what his brother did not.’
‘Who doubts it?’ I asked.
‘None living.’ Euvrain leaned yet closer. ‘But Belinus, his father, would have wished Caradog killed in his brother’s place.’
I drew back. ‘That cannot be true.’
‘Why not?’ She looked at me. A dark outline of ground stone made her blue eyes luminous. ‘Does a whelping bitch not condemn the weakest of her pups to perish?’
‘But Caradog is no weak pup.’
‘No,’ she agreed, laughing. ‘He is certainly no longer that.’
I glanced at Caradog, speaking with Hefin on the opposite side of the fire. What flaw could his father have seen? Even the fragilities I had scented did not weaken him, but provided a grit, an alloy, to the metal of his nature that only increased its lustre. I turned back to his wife. ‘Why have you told me this?’
‘Because I trust you. And the better you know him, the better you will serve his war.’
‘Then tell me more.’
She smiled. ‘Spin with me tomorrow, if you are free.’
‘I will be free.’
Someone was striking a spoon against an ale-pot.
‘Hear me speak!’ Prydd was struggling to raise his shrill voice over the gathering. The guests grew silent. ‘I wish to honour the Kendra. This night she has performed the offering with the power and grace of the Mothers.’
The feasters murmured their agreement.
‘It was no easy task to train her,’ he continued. ‘But it appears that my efforts have been well-rewarded.’
I bowed in response to his words. He did not will me to fail. He sought my success as testament to his design. If I allowed him to think it was, he would continue to strengthen me.
‘Well said, journeyman!’ said Caradog. ‘A noble acknowledgement and rightly made. I hope she brings us such power as we fight in Tir Dobunni.’
Prydd stared at him. ‘Do you take the Kendra into enemy territory?’
‘Of course,’ said Caradog. ‘In my own war band.’
As I worked at my table the next morning, measuring ointment into jars to take to Tir Dobunni, my thoughts twitched with memories of the killing, of Caradog’s scent.
A tap on my door screen roused me from my task.
‘Euvrain?’ I called.
But it was Rhain who slipped into my hut, quiet as a deer, and sat at my fire. His face looked drawn.
‘What is amiss?’ I asked. ‘And why did you not sing last night?’ I had not even seen him at the feast.
‘I was taken unwell as I returned to the township.’
‘With what symptoms? I will treat you…’
He shook his head. ‘It has passed with the dawn.’
Like all illnesses caught from the ale-pot, I thought. ‘Then what brings you, Songman?’
‘To know how you fare after the rite,’ he said. ‘I saw how far you drifted to Annwyn. I know what such a journey can cost.’
He was right. The offering had emptied me, yet I was glad that I had known animal form. The Mothers were still within me. I still held the power of change. I stared at my jars, unsure what to make known.
‘What is it?’ Rhain said, reading my quietness.
‘I…I knew change in the ritual.’
Rhain smiled. ‘As you should. Why so stern? What form found you?’
‘Serpent.’
Rhain’s smile dropped away.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, cursing the scantness of my training.
He rubbed his eyes in agitation. ‘Do not tell the hairless man. He is already fearful…’
‘What, Rhain?’ I said. ‘What does it mean?’
‘The serpent is too powerful for most. It holds the very essence of journey-law. For the adder is not reborn by death, but many times within its own lifetime…’
‘…by the shedding of its skin,’ I murmured.
‘Ay,’ said Rhain. ‘Only the strongest can command the serpent.’
The smiths’ fires roared as I passed them on the way to the saddler to collect my new bridle. Caradog had ordered more spears and arrows to be made for the war bands. There was no need for helmets or other battle ornaments. Our work would be done before we were seen on any battle field.
As I stopped to watch one of the smiths at work, I felt a tug at my skirt. She must have seen me pass by the north gate and run in after me. ‘You can’t come in here, youngling,’ I told her gently. ‘You know the journeyman has forbidden it.’ And it was I who would pay if he saw us, I thought.
Manacca nodded, crestfallen, and turned away.
I grabbed her small, filthy hand. ‘Watch the forge with me for a moment. It is pretty to see the iron glow.’
The smith was making a snaffle ring for a bit. He took a thin bar of iron, set it in the coals, and pumped the bellows. Manacca and I stared as the bar grew red, then orange. When it was almost white, the smith pulled it out and hammered it thinner, working deftly to turn it before it hardened. The strikes rang like a musical beat, the hum of the furnace a steady accompaniment. When its colour had faded he thrust the bar back into the coals. This time, it was hammered even thinner, and, just as it was almost too cool, the smith lifted it from the anvil in two pincers and bent it swiftly, fluidly, into its perfect, curled shape.
I stared, enthralled. There was no template, no measurement. He forged in the moment, by some grace, some instinct, in his hands. I glanced at the pieces that hung from his hut roof. Each was uniquely shaped. How many years of training had bestowed on him this skill?
He caught Manacca’s eye and smiled. Then he plunged the iron into a bucket with a mighty hiss. He examined the cooled snaffle, then shook his head. ‘Too narrow,’ he said, holding it toward Manacca. ‘You can have it if you want.’
I farewelled her outside the north gate, where we could not be seen. ‘I won’t be back for a little while,’ I said, kissing her cheek.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I am going with the war chief…to fight the Romans in Tir Dobunni.’
‘For cattle?’
I laughed. ‘Not cattle.’
‘Then what?’
I crouched before her. She was starved of even the most basic knowledge. ‘We are fighting for our land, Manacca. The Romans want to claim it.’
‘But Hefin is chief of this land…’
‘The Emperor wants to be chief.’
‘Will he live here, if he is chief?’ she gasped, eyes round.
‘No. He lives in Rome.’
‘How can he be chief if he is not here?’
I wiped a smear of ash from her forehead. ‘I don’t know.’ I wished I could bring her back to my hut and co
mb out the lice that teemed in her scalp.
She clutched the snaffle bit, thoughtful. ‘Will we win the fight, Aya?’ she asked. ‘Are we stronger?’
‘We have to be.’
‘But what if we are not?’ By Lleu, she had the persistence of a mule.
‘Then we must learn to love the taste of turnips. For our apple trees will not yield fruit if we are not sovereign.’
Manacca gripped my hand as I stood to leave. ‘Are you scared?’
‘Yes.’
Dawn broke cold on the day of the attack. Frost crunched underfoot as I walked behind the tents to squat. ‘Go on!’ I shooed Neha, who sniffed at my stream. She trotted off to join the war hounds.
Forested slopes rose on both sides of the camp. We had departed yesterday morning and ridden day-long on mountainous paths, reaching the Habren an hour before sunset. Caradog had cast a silver sword into the fast-running water, before the way-finders had searched a shallow part of the river where the horses could cross, then led us another hour in dusk to reach this hidden clearing.
A rustle in the leaves made me jump to my feet, but it was only a badger trundling through hawkweed. We were in the Cuda Forest, only half a day’s ride to the Dobunni border, where we would launch our attack. We were close to our enemy, beyond the protection of the river’s boundary. I had barely slept.
Caradog was awake, warming his hands and joking with the chiefs gathered at his fire. I nodded a wordless greeting and crouched at the fire-edge.
‘Sleep well, Kendra?’ asked Caradog.
‘As well as any might sleep before meeting their enemy.’
‘I sleep as a babe, on the eve of battle,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to waste what might be my last night.’
‘Then why spend it sleeping?’ said one of the chiefs, and the men laughed.
Caradog began speaking to them of the route we would take to the Sun Road, scarcely glancing at me.
I had been sure that the offering would have heightened his esteem of me. But since that night, when I had glimpsed what lay within him, he had shown even greater reluctance to hear my council, barely speaking to me during the days of war preparation. I had spun twice with Euvrain at her invitation and she told me what I was already learning for myself: that his moods were as capricious as the solstice tides and just as impossible to turn.