The Fox (16 page)

Surprised, we stood in silence. This was the longest speech I ever heard Beathan give.

“Well, Sileas,” asked Beathan. “Why did you carry out the red thread? Have you forgotten its purpose?”

“Oh. No, O Chieftain, no,” she stammered. Flushed, she lifted and tied Lovern’s and my clasped hands with red thread, wrapped three times around. Lovern kissed me deeply. I could do nothing but smile, my heart laughing. And so we married.

A lusty, rejoicing whoop split the sky, caused me to duck and the ravens to rise in somersaults and caw in escape. Beathan’s yell and bear hug enveloped us all.

My mother kissed me and then Beathan on his bearded cheek. “You have done well with your life,” she spoke into his ear. “I often wondered what would happen to you when we were children.” His belly shook in laughter.

Lovern tried to hug everyone in return but our tied hands restricted his movements.

“See, Priest?” Beathan said. “She has already a hand on your freedom!”

“I do not see it as a restriction, my friend,” Lovern said with a smile at me. “I see it as a promise to each other. A promise we made many years ago.”

I knew he referred to my first passage dream with him as a boy. Beathan’s forehead wrinkled. He did not know about the dreams. He did not know Lovern and I touched our minds long ago.

With a shrug of his mighty shoulders, Beathan said, “Now we go to eat. Invite all as we go. It will be a big celebration at my home tonight. I killed a hog yesterday. Let all bring food and drink and we will sing and tell tales all night.”

“I have two hares to give to the pot for the dinner,” said Sileas. “Harailt can pick them up on his way. I must stay with Torrian tonight.”

Harailt gave her a kiss and her arm curled around his waist as they walked back to the hospice. A flash of memory came to my mind. Harailt and Cerdic walking away from Beathan’s after he ordered Harailt and I to be hand-fasted. Harailt’s head hung, and he shuffled away. He loved another. He loved Sileas. All came to pass as it should.

We sat as honored guests at Beathan’s table. Many came and more still as Beathan announced our marriage. He gave Lovern the honor to carve the roasted meat. Lovern transferred the knife into our bound hands and we both carved. Cheers of congratulations rang out. The night was long and filled with mead, peat smoke, poems of bravery, love songs, and music. We danced, kissed in the shadows, and laughed, our hands held with the red thread of our promise. The celebration lasted long past the moon’s rise. Lovern and I stumbled home long after mother.

Lovern used his teeth and we both used our free hands to untie the thread’s knot. We were forbidden to cut it. He put the thread into his memory bag.

I crossed my arms and grasped the hem of my tunic, lifted it over my head and Lovern came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and nibbled my neck, just under my ear, causing my knees to grow weak. Chills ran down my body and my nipples stiffened.

“I cannot get ready for bed if you do not let me go,” I said.

“I am here to help you undress,” he whispered into my ear.

His strong arms enveloped me, carrying his scent of honey and crushed acorns. No other person smelled like him. No other man could make me want to be surrounded by him forever. I fell into his arms, and he turned me around to face him. My breath came faster as my heart danced in my chest. Heat rushed up from my toes to my face, and my breasts ached, waiting for his soft fingers to caress them. My body ached with desire. I buried my face into his chest, wanting his scent in my nose forever.

“Jahna. When I think back on the time I did not know you, I wonder how I could have thought I was alive. I need you. I am strong with you near me. Now, with this contract, we will be together forever. You are now my family. You are my life.”

“It is for you that I have waited so long,” I said. “I have taken no man before you. You are the one who taught me that to love is to feel the presence of the gods. My life will be lived as your partner, your wife. I will love you through this life and all we have hereafter.”

His gentle blue eyes misted. Then one of his hands left my waist and encircled my breast. My nipples hardened even more at his touch, and I gasped. I stood on my tiptoes, and pulled his lips to mine.

When our lovemaking was over, I lay next to him, weak, and rolled to him so my nose was against his ribs, inhaling his scent. His fingers combed through my hair; then his palm rested on the back of my head. We whispered promises of fealty. This night burned itself into my memories. It would be there until my death.

We spent that night in a bed that smelled of sweet heather, in each other’s arms.

The day of our marriage ended.

Tomorrow I would follow my labyrinth.

C
HAPTER
8

AINE

April, 2005

I had been given ninety-six hours to find her.

Marc talked Lauri, Tim, Kendy, and Matt into staying for four days. They’d still have time to pack up the tent and equipment and go on to Wales if we didn’t find anything in the time they gave me.

I called the farmer who owned the property, Mr. Treadwell, and told him we were coming up today. As he hesitated, thoughts of him telling me he’d changed his mind ran through my head. I reached for my antacids.

“Just be sure to close the gate when you come up,” he said. “It wouldn’t be good fer me cattle to roam the roads, unattended.”

I thanked him and assured him we’d close the gate.

There was little conversation between Marc and I at first. The unpaved farm road was rough and full of ruts and I was glad we’d a Range Rover and a sturdy van for transportation. I decided not to ask any questions on the ride up about the discussion of their staying here. I was in the Rover with Marc and the rest of the crew was in the van behind us. Marc convinced the crew to stay, but I didn’t know if I wanted to find out how much he told them about our discussion last night. I hoped he’d been discreet about Jahna.

The morning fog kept the dust down. It was also obscuring our view of the hill. I’d seen the hill and taken pictures of it last fall, but could hardly make out anything in this blanket of cold and moisture. Thankfully, I had my map coordinates out and the GPS in hand or we’d have driven right by it.

It wasn’t a large hill, and it blended in with the landscape of pastures and surrounding hills. It also backed into the mountain just behind it, and was just tall enough to see the countryside, making any defense of it by ancient people easier. I knew they’d been here. Now I needed to prove it to the crew and Marc.

We parked at the bottom and gathered around the van to unload our little bit of equipment. I asked for a few minutes to walk up to the hilltop to find the first spot I wanted to excavate.

“I’m only going to get one chance at this and I’d like to make sure I pick the right area to start.”

Marc looked at me with concern, sighed, and nodded while the rest of the team demurred and then agreed. The fog started lifting but the ground was damp and the air was still cold. The Rover’s heater was on the blink, so the crew got back into the van to wait. Marc went with me.

“How’d you get them to stay?” I asked as he and I followed an old trail to the top. Oh Lord, I could tell I was having an attack of what my mother called “run of the mouth.” I couldn’t stop talking. It sometimes happened when I was nervous or happy. She could slow me down by holding her finger up, but she wasn’t here. So, without any reason to stop, I continued, “When you knocked on my door this morning, I thought it was to say goodbye and please drop off the Rover when I was done. Then I opened the door and there you were, standing with the trowel in your hand and a smile on your face. I was quite taken aback! By the way, did you have Mrs. Dingleberry pack us a big lunch? I didn’t have time to eat breakfast, as you know.” I ran out of breath.

Marc shook his head and chuckled.

We reached the top of the hill. Sunlight and warmth filled the last steps of the trail and we surveyed the scene below. The valley was still invisible and I imagined this is what Noah saw after landing on Mount Ararat. It was a sea of grey, nothing but the ground we stood on and the mountain behind us visible.

“It was fun to see you so flummoxed,” said Marc, “and I’ve never seen you speechless before. You certainly are back to normal. When we were dating, I barely ever got a word in edgewise. Anyway, last night I explained the job offer in Wales. Then I said to think of the opportunity of finding a new location in Scotland. I told them to imagine being the first team on a new dig and all the exciting things that could come of it. Finally, I asked them to compare it to being one of many on an established dig in Wales and getting paid. They of course, being of sound minds, chose Wales. I then implored and finally retreated by offering them £500 each if they stayed for the rest of the week. They said they’d stay four days. No pressure on you or anything but something had better come up out of the ground fast.”

Looking over the edge of the hill, I asked, “Where are you going to get £2000 to pay them with?”

Marc reached out and touched my arm. I turned, not knowing what to expect and still feeling the possibility of loss in my stomach. His eyes were the lapis blue I remembered from our university days, the color I saw when, together, we made plans for the future, plans to conquer history. The feeling of loss was replaced with something else. Confusion. Why did it feel like I’d been standing beside him, in this place, forever?

“Aine. I’ve almost enjoyed this last month, gathering the crew together and getting here. I’d thought of it as a challenge.” He paused, shuffling from one foot to the other, his hands deep in his pockets. “And I have to admit, a way to get to know you again.” His hands came out of his pockets and ran through his hair. “I’m sorry I was such an ass last night. Doug’s call took me by surprise. Why don’t we call a truce and see what the next few days bring? I thought it over after we talked in your room last night. I spoke to them,” he said, pointing down the hill, “after I’d already decided I’d stay for a week. I told myself, ‘just pretend it’s a small vacation.’ God knows I won’t get one for a long time if I go to Wales. So I’ll just sit tight and let the youngsters do all the hard work and I’ll man the computer. The money will either come out of the grants you’ll get from this dig or you’ll sell everything you own to pay them,” he said, looking at me with a sly grin.

“Oh God. I’m already in debt up to my armpits. Oh well. If all goes like I know it will, we won’t have to worry about anything anyway. And you won’t have to go to Wales. We’ll have all the money we need.”

Suddenly serious, I asked, “Marc, will you be unhappy here?”

“I had doubts earlier and still have a few, but I made the choice to stay. Heaven knows why, but I’m going to make the most of it, even if only for a week.”

Marc and I walked around the edge of the hill. I stopped every so often and bent to touch the ground. Then I could smell peat fires around me. I heard animals in their corrals and felt the vibrating footsteps of people. This was where I was supposed to start. I turned to Marc. “We’ll start digging here.”

The fog cleared enough to see the bottom of the hill. We waved to the van and they came tumbling out and grabbed the little equipment we had: stakes and twine to mark the quadrants, and spades, trowels, brushes, and sifting screens for digging.

After trudging up the path, Tim marked the area I pointed to with the stakes and twine and asked me why I’d picked it. “It just felt right,” I answered. I didn’t tell him a warm feeling came over me as I felt the ground, a feeling that raised the hair on the back of my neck. Jahna had touched me.

After marking the quadrants, we started removing and sifting the first layers of topsoil.

We found the first pieces of pottery just before we left for the day. We were using hand trowels to remove the soil at that point but the ground wasn’t difficult to dig in after we cut through the sod with the shovels. The sun hid behind clouds and we stayed cool even though we worked hard. We’d been digging for several hours and found nothing when I decided to take a short break to watch the sifting.

Matt balanced our square-frame screen on his hip. On the other side, it was supported by pieces of lumber attached to the screen frame. The soil that was going through the screen created a pile at his feet. The rocks that came up were tossed to the right of him and anything that he felt needed a closer look was laid to his left, in a bucket. So far, the bucket was empty. I watched as three small pieces of pottery emerged from the debris and lay on the screen along with the larger pebbles. Matt stopped shaking the screen and looked at me with anticipation. The pieces were dirt-covered and might have been overlooked by an amateur. With experience, you get an eye that searches for anything that looks as if it were man-made. I picked them up and looked for signs of age.

“They are coil pots,” I observed, brushing off some of the soil. I walked them over to Marc and handed them to him. He looked at them and said, “Yes, this could be good news. I don’t think we should break out the champagne yet, though.” He handed them back to me and said, “I hope there’s more. Lots more.”