In the Shadow of the Wall (21 page)

A.D. 209

Brude’s first year back in Broch Tava was a hard one in many ways. Fothair, though, recovered well from his injuries and was up and around in a few weeks. “Thank you for what you did for me,” he said to Brude as he stamped his leg, testing for a reaction from his wound. “I’m as good as new.”

“Are you going to run now?” Brude asked him with a smile.

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you are planning to do.”

They were standing outside Seoras’ home, enjoying the summer breeze from the sea. Brude pointed eastwards along the foot of the hill. “I thought I’d build a house over there,” he said.

“You’re not going to live here?” Fothair was surprised.

“With my mother watching my every move? No. I had years of people watching me and I’d prefer some space for myself.”

“And what then?”

Brude shrugged. “I’m not sure. I have some knowledge of healing. I might do that. Travel around the local villages, that sort of thing.”

“Your magic herbs won’t last forever,” Fothair pointed out.

“I can always get more from the Romans. They have infirmaries at every fort on the Wall.”

“That’s a long way.”

“There are always merchants who will get things, if you pay them enough. Maybe that’s what I’ll do as well. Travel around, do some trading.”

Fothair nodded. “It doesn’t sound very exciting.”

“I don’t want exciting,” Brude told him. He sensed the tall man was working up to asking a question. “What do you want to do?”

“I’m a slave,” Fothair said amiably. “Does it matter what I want?”

“Well I can’t free you. Colm would not stand for that, but as long as you act as if you’re a slave, I don’t really mind what you do. I could do with some help building a house, but I thought you were going to run.”

“I might.” He thought for a moment then said, “If I stay, would you teach me how to fight?”

Brude saw from his face that Fothair was serious. “It takes a long time and I told you I’ve had enough of fighting.” He idly picked up a small pebble and threw it, striking the trunk of a tree some twenty paces away.

Fothair said, “Not bad.” He bent to pick up a pebble, threw and missed by a wide margin. “But if you do decide to travel you’ll need someone to watch your back. What use would I be if I didn’t know how to fight? Someone might attack you while you were sleeping.”

Brude laughed. “You could just wake me up and let me do the fighting,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll just run away after all,” Fothair muttered, although his tone suggested he was not really serious.

“All right,” Brude conceded. “If you help me build my house, that will build your strength and I’ll show you how to improve your speed. That’s the first part of the training and it takes a long time. As for fighting, let’s see how you get on with the first bit.”

Fothair grinned hugely. “When do we start?”

“Right now. Can you catch a fly?”

“What?”

Brude held up a hand for silence. It was early summer and the air was full of insects. He did not have long to wait before a fly came close. His hand flashed out and he clenched a fist. Holding it in front of Fothair’s face he slowly opened his hand to set the fly free. “Like that,” he said. “You have to catch it, not kill it.”

Fothair was dumbfounded. “How did you learn to do that?”

“Lots of practice,” Brude told him. “You should start now. You can do it while you’re walking up to the broch. Go and speak to the smith, Caroc, and ask him what he wants for four axes, two for felling trees and two smaller ones for the trimming.”

“Coin or kind?” Fothair asked.

“Either.”

“Anything else while I’m up there?”

“Maybe, but climbing the hill a few times will help build the strength in your legs. Run, don’t walk.”

“You’ve got a mean streak, do you know that?” Fothair smiled happily.

“I learned from the best,” Brude replied. “And you’re supposed to call me Master.”

“Am I?” Still grinning, Fothair set off up the hill towards the broch. “You might have to keep reminding me about tht,” he called back over his shoulder. Laughing, Brude watched him go. He saw the tall man fling his hand out a few times as he went, vainly trying to catch a passing insect.

They got their axes in exchange for some silver coins Brude had safely tucked away in a money belt. Then they set about planning the house. Brude had been toying with the notion of making a Roman style house but he had no idea how to make bricks or tiles and he knew nobody in the village would have the skills either, so he decided on a traditional roundhouse. In any event, he wanted to fit in, not to stand out as someone different.

Brude asked around the village to make sure nobody had any objections to his chosen site, a flat piece of rather stony land near the foot of one of the steepest parts of the hill. It was unused land and nobody minded except his mother, who did not understand why he wanted to build a house of his own. “You can stay here,” she said. “There’s only Seoras and me. Some families have ten people in one house. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

He made excuses, which didn’t satisfy her, but she eventually realised that his mind was made up and only occasionally mentioned that a new house was an unnecessary luxury. Seoras offered to help with the building but Brude told him he wanted to try to do this by himself, which made Seoras and Fothair burst out laughing. “Have you ever made a roundhouse?” Seoras asked him.

“No,” Brude admitted sheepishly.

“It will take more than the two of you,” Seoras told him. “Unless you want it to take all year to build.”

“I’m not doing anything else,” said Brude. “And Fothair wants to build up his muscles.”

“Do you know how to thatch a roof?” Seoras persisted, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

“I remember seeing it done years ago,” Brude said. “We’ll figure it out.”

“You’re game, lad, I’ll say that for you,” laughed Seoras.

Seoras helped anyway and so did a few other villagers when they learned what Brude was planning. Castatin came down from the broch most days with some of the other boys so Seoras organised them to clearing the site, lifting all the stones and levelling the surface off as much as possible while Brude and Fothair went off to find suitable trees; oak for the rafters and door, and hazel wands for the walls. Even with the axes Caroc had provided, it took them days to fell the trees, then cut and trim the stakes. They used Brude’s mule to haul the wood back to the site. Brude felt pleased with himself but Seoras told him he did ot have enough wood so they had to go and find more. After two weeks of chopping, trimming and shaping the wood, Brude began to realise it was going to take a very long time to build his house.

Mairead came to see them one afternoon, laughing as she saw them struggling to haul another load of timber to Seoras, who was patiently scraping and polishing some of the beams. “You’re mad!” she laughed when she saw Brude.

“And you’re very beautiful,” he told her.

She made a face but he saw that she was pleased by the compliment. “Why don’t you ask Colm to send some of his men down to help? They spend most of their time lazing around pretending to be warriors.”

“Do you think he would do that?” Brude asked doubtfully.

“Probably not, but if you offered him something valuable enough he might do it.”

“I thought he was rich enough already,” Brude said.

Mairead frowned. “He’ll never be rich enough to satisfy him.”

“That’s not the way to live a happy life,” Brude said. “He needs to learn to be content with what he has.”

“Like you?” Mairead asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“I’ve got everything I need,” Brude nodded. Mairead was about to speak but bit back the words when he held up his hand. He knew what she was going to say. “And I learned from a very wise man in
Rome
that there is no point in dreaming about things I can’t have. That would only make me unhappy.”

Mairead’s blue eyes stared into his. He saw her lips tremble, then she pulled herself together and snapped, “Well I am glad you can be so happy, Brude. Not everyone is as lucky as you.” She turned, stamping her way back to the track that led up the hill. Brude followed her with his eyes and saw the giant warrior Cruithne waiting for her at the foot of the hill. The big man glared at him, then followed Mairead as she climbed the track.

Brude gave himself a mental kick. He turned to see Seoras and Fothair watching him. “Let’s get back to work,” he told them.

Castatin appeared the fond ng day, approaching cautiously and staying at the edge of the trees at the foot of the hill. When Brude saw him, he waved him over but the boy shook his head, signalling to Brude to come to him. Putting down his axe, Brude wandered over to say hello.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Castatin told him, his eyes constantly moving, looking for anyone who might see him. “My father says I’m not to come here any more and neither is my mother.”

“Then you’d best be off,” Brude told him. “I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

“Mother was crying yesterday,” said Castatin. “She was upset when father started shouting at her, but she told me to come and tell you why we wouldn’t be down any more.”

“I understand. Thank you for telling me. Now you’d better get back before anyone sees you.”

Castatin scampered back into the trees and began clambering up the rocky slope. Thoughtfully, Brude returned to the pile of wood he and Fothair had gathered. He picked up his axe, returning to the never-ending task of trimming the beams. He tried to banish all thoughts of Mairead and Castatin from his mind, losing himself in the monotony of the work.

“Lost another helper?” Fothair asked.

“Apparently. It seems I am not popular with Colm. And you’re supposed to call me Master.”

Fothair ignored the last comment, just as Brude knew he would. It had become more of a joke between them than anything else. Instead he said, “Well, it’s your own fault.”

Using the axe to lop off another small branch, Brude asked, “What do you mean? I’ve barely spoken to him since that first day.”

Fothair laughed. “Keeping out of his way won’t help you. You’ve done a much worse thing than that. You came back when he thought you were dead and gone. And his woman wants you instead of him.”

“No she doesn’t!” Brude protested.

Fothair laughed. “If you say so. I expect you’ll tell me next that you don’t want her either.”

“Why don’t you go and chop down another tree,” Brude suggested. “Build up your arm muscles.”

“Ha! I was right. I knew you wanted her.”

“I never said that,” said Brude, growing annoyed at Fothair’s intrusion into his privacy.

“You didn’t have to,” said Fothair. “Well, I’ll go and find another tree, shall I, Master?”

By the time of the Lughnasa festival they had still barely started on the house. It had taken weeks to find, gather and shape the wood. Brude realised that, without some help, they would never finish in time for winter even if the fine weather held. Still, they rested for Lughnasa and enjoyed the feast, which Colm arranged for the whole village. It was harvest time so food was plentiful and there was music and dancing. Mairead danced with everyone, even Brude, but they were barely able to exchange more than a handful of words because Colm was watching them closely and Mairead soon moved on to dance with someone else.