The Fox (33 page)

“The report says the contents of the bowl – now we can officially call it an urn – are human. They put it at around AD 80, give or take fifteen years. Jim said the quality of the bronze bowl is superb. The bowl itself is very good quality and was engraved by an artist. He said it reminded him of the bowl Marc found in the chieftain’s tomb. Huh. The bowl
I
found, he means. Anyway, Jimmy said he’s trying to sex the remains. The cremation fire was extremely hot but there may be enough left to try. He’ll let me know. It’s really exciting news.”

I stopped for a minute, put my face in my hands, and massaged my temples. “George, I should be happy! But, earlier I remembered what day it is. Donny was killed three years ago today.”

“Oh my, I’m sorry. I hadn’t remembered either.”

I stood up and leaned to the cupboard where I kept my Scotch. “Do you want a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

I was a bit surprised, as he was the one who introduced me to Lagavulin, but the thought quickly left my mind. I was in the mood to be selfish and not think of others that night. I poured myself a double.

“My aunt sent me an email. She is pretty good with her computer now. She is in a group that actually plays bridge online if you can believe that. Anyway, she says she went to the graveyard and put flowers on the family today. Even Mom and Dad. She figured they’d like them too. She said she put yellow roses on Donny’s grave.”

I sat back down at the busy table, facing George. “I still don’t understand why he had to die in such a horrible way.”

I remembered the speech given by the colonel when we buried my brother. He stood at attention over the hole my brother’s body was now in and had said, “Major Donald MacRae gave his life in protection of the men under his command in Afghanistan. He laid his body over the grenade when he saw it thrown so the four men around him could live. There is no greater sacrifice than giving your life so others may live.” At this, my mother collapsed and had to be taken home.

The colonel came to me after the ceremony and privately told me that he was recommending Donny for the George Cross. I laughed and asked whether he thought he could replace my brother with a ribbon and a piece of metal. I told him I didn’t understand why Donny was even there and to die there was unforgivable in my eyes. How could he leave Mom and me? And his wife and kids, Craig and Tira?

“How could he do that George? Why didn’t he just stay in his vehicle? He was coming home the next month. Why did he die?”

“Some things are never going to be understood, Aine. Donny had a reason. We may never know what it was. Sometimes a man has time to think about his sacrifice, but usually it happens instinctively. Donny was a brave man. The men he saved have gone on to lead good lives. One has even become a member of the clergy. And through Donny’s children the family blood will continue.”

“Oh, bloody hell. You sound like Dad would if he were alive. Even Donny’s wife’s came to terms with his death and has taught my niece and nephew that their dad was a hero. I just miss him.” I finished my drink in one gulp and coughed as it burned a hole in my guts.

“Well, I’m sorry,” said George. “Let me take the plate and go now. It’s late and I’m tired.” He kissed my cheek and picked up the still full plate he had set down in front of me.

I didn’t sleep that night. The bed was too empty, the room too quiet and ghosts were rumbling outside.

Two days later, George bought train tickets to go to London for a physical check up. He had leukemia but had been fighting it, successfully as far as I knew, for two years, but he looked more tired than any time since he’d gotten here. I was worried but he reassured me.

“Just a regular thing. I’m sure I may only need to adjust some of my medications. No need to worry.”

“George, I’ll always worry about you. You’re my rock. I look to you when I’m floundering. Pass your check up with flying colors and come back. Please.”

It was Sunday and the station bustled with noise and motion. People were coming home from holidays and leaving to go back to work. I heard laughter, loud hellos, and sobbing goodbyes. The rolling suitcases everyone seemed to have now chased, passed by, and almost tripped me every time I took a step, but I felt alone. Crazy. There were lots of people working at the hilltop. The house was full at night, and I’d already started looking for more people to come, but I felt lonely.

George put his arms around me, pulled me close, and kissed the top of my head. “Thank you for calling me. I knew you were trying to restart your life and was hoping you’d find a place to fit in. I think you’ve done it here. I’m glad to have a small part in your success.”

Suddenly, I felt a hollow pit just under my stomach. This sounded more like a goodbye than an “I’ll see you later.” What was he saying?

“Aine, do me a favor and don’t crawl into anymore caves unless you have a crew nearby, okay? I don’t want to have to worry about you.”

“Okay. I’ll be sure I have plenty of rescuers around next time.” He walked to the crowded train car door, turned, lifted his arm high and waved.

As I waved, the music slipped into my ears. Somewhere, someone was playing “Amazing Grace” on bagpipes. A chill came over me and tears ran down my face. This piper played it just like the one at my brother’s funeral. George’s train pulled away and I hunted for a tissue.

Snuffling and blowing, I shook off the feeling of dread that had come over me. Enough of my ghosts. I had ghosts of others to find.

I retreated to my fort.

C
HAPTER
18

JAHNA

82 AD J
ANUARY
, F
EBRUARY

Lovern was distracted and spent little time with Crisi. After we returned from the
mor dal,
he took her out as before. As his leaving grew closer, though, he preferred to go to the hills and forests alone.

Our lovemaking was infrequent, much less than I wanted and hurried when I broke through his curtain of concentration. He was not with just me; the king and the druidess were also in bed with us.

Since our return, the snake in my belly lay coiled and did not lessen its hold. I often forgot meals until Crisi reminded me. I thought it was because of my worry about Lovern. I promised myself to speak with Rhona when I saw her next.

Planning and preparing for the order given to him by King Calgacus had taken many of his waking hours, and now many of his sleeping hours as well.

“Last night, while I lay in our cave, the mistletoe cave, I dreamed of Imbolc. The gods requested more light than we have ever had before. This morning, I harvested many sprigs of the golden bough. If we conduct the Imbolc festival in the way the gods request, the mistletoe will bring a fertile harvest. We will need food if the Romans come. We must be ready to feed ourselves and gather extra if we must leave.” Lovern paced, creating a worn path around the fire-pit, his hand running through his loose hair.

I stirred our meal, adding dried juniper berries to the stew. Crisi, now almost six seasons old, sat at her grandmother’s loom. Her fingers worked the shuttle between and under the warp to create cloth. Not perfect, but still a good attempt, and it kept her still for a few minutes.

“We will have many candles for you to bless at Imbolc,” I said. “Tell me, Lovern, have the gods given you anything that will make your trip less dangerous? Have they told you that you do not need to go?” I wished him to say “Yes, they told me to stay with you and Crisi.” That was not what I heard.

“As much as I pray, I hear nothing. I still must go. I do not want the same fate to come to this land that visited the land where I was born. As for now, the gods have shown me an Imbolc filled with light and I must do as they demand.”

Imbolc was the halving of our winter season. We prayed for the coming spring to bring fertility to our crops and animals. I prayed for Lovern’s safety.

Imbolc dawned to heavy rain, too much for a ceremony outdoors. Lovern and I went to Kenric’s home where Lovern lit the sacred Imbolc oak fire. His home, the chieftain’s lodge, was filled with clan members, enough to bulge its walls. Lovern asked me to bring the candles we had gathered in the days before. We passed them out to those in the lodge and then I slipped on my cloak. White stag’s fur lined my hood and reminded me of a time when Lovern was mine alone. It saddened me. I understood he worked to ensure the safety of Crisi and the other children of our clan, but I missed having him to myself. I gathered the rest of the candles with a heavy heart.

Lovern picked up a large-mouthed, empty pot and a small fire-brand. He turned the pot to hold over the burning oak log, protecting it from the rain. We lit three candles in every abode we visited that night. As I moved from home to home, the rainwater on the path behind us reflected the burning candles. I trembled when I saw the light behind us but darkness ahead.

Home, with Crisi safely in her bed asleep, we stripped ourselves of our dripping cloaks and sat on our bed, wrapped in our blanket. I shivered as I moved closer to him to garnish the heat of his body. He held open his arm and invited me to scoot closer to him. We sat skin to skin.

“Tell me how your hair always smells of spring flowers,” he said with his nose resting against the top of my head.

“I have petals from last summer pressed into the soap I use to wash it with,” I said as I snuggled deeper under his arm. “You always smell of honey and leather. I have found you in the dark by your fragrance.”

“Jahna,” he said, his warm breath tickling my ears. “We are traveling the path the gods prepared us for. I feel that this is the reason we were brought together. We are here to save our people, through healing and whatever the gods ask of us at this time. I do not want to go, to leave you and Crisi alone. I swore to you I would not go far again after your taking. But, I must break my promise. Crisi needs you and if I do not come back, you must ask the gods what should be done to protect the clan, to protect Crisi.”

He stroked my hair as he spoke, and tears fell off my chin onto my bare legs. My head nodded yes; a fist gripped my heart. I understood, but I did not like it.

The lovemaking that night was like the nights just after our hand-fasting. We did not let go of each other. As I was falling asleep, he whispered into my ear. “I am going when this storm pauses. There has been a lessening of the cold and I think it will continue. I have a better chance of traveling unnoticed in the winter. Eyes turn inward, and I can slip past them.” I turned to him, cupped his now bearded face in my hands, and kissed his warm, sweet mouth. I scooted even closer to try to get under his skin. I wanted to never have him leave me again, but I knew he had to go.

“Yes. I will ready your things.”

After one more rain-filled day and love-filled night, he left at daybreak, under a clear sky.

Crisi needed little of my attention as she spent most of her time at Finlay’s home now. She did not ask about Lovern. He had told her in his way what he was doing, and she accepted it. Harailt and Sileas treated the ill. I looked for something to fill my hands. At Finlay’s, I asked for another bowl.

“Are you making anything that I may engrave for someone? I have a need to create something long-lasting.”