The White Mare: The Dalraida Trilogy, Book One (27 page)

‘And where is the King now?’ Eremon asked gently.

‘Ah, well, that is the worst of it.’ Samana sniffled. ‘Agricola asked the King and his whole council to visit him – and took them hostage. The warriors here were baying for blood, as you can imagine. But if they make a move, the King will be executed. The lords have scattered to their duns and seem content to leave it be. They hope that when Agricola completes his campaign, the King will be returned.’

‘Completes his campaign?’ Rhiann’s voice sounded harsh, but the false tears were going a little too far. She had never known Samana to cry.

‘Yes, Rhiann – he will be driven back, or he will conquer.’

‘And what of you?’ Eremon was conciliatory.

Another great sigh. ‘I’ve done the best that I can with what was left.’

Rhiann looked around at the oil lamps and ornate flagons with a raised eyebrow that she did not try to hide.

‘I am the closest of the King’s kin – there was no one left to take
charge here, as the other lords have their own duns to attend to. Although I know little of ruling, I am keeping my dun safe and prosperous to await the King’s return.’

‘And this involves replacing the King’s Hall with a Roman one?’ Rhiann sipped her mead with great casualness.

The eye that Samana turned on her was not soft. ‘Why, Rhiann! The King began this work before he was so cruelly taken. I cannot live in a half-finished building; nor did I want to waste the costly timber or tiles. The people understand.’

Rhiann thought about the signs of prosperity that she had seen among the Votadini. Yes, the people – those of the ruling class, at any rate – would understand all too well.

So, she did not believe that Samana was as grief-stricken about the situation as she made out. She loved the goods the treaty had brought her, and she was living here unmolested in her own house. And yet, the story itself made sense. Did vanity and greed equal treachery?

‘Now.’ Samana wiped her cheeks and smiled at Eremon. ‘You must tell me why you have come.’

‘It is a much shorter tale,’ Eremon replied. ‘We seek to find out more about the Romans, that is all. How many there are, where they are …’

‘I take it, then, that you intend to resist?’

Rhiann opened her mouth to reply, seized with the urge not to tell Samana too much, but Eremon said quickly, ‘Yes, we do.’

Samana smiled at him again, and reached out to touch his hand. ‘I wish we had men of such determination here, cousin. Perhaps the result would have been much different.’

‘Will you help us, then?’

She looked around at them all. ‘I will tell you as much as I can, and may be able to get you more information. But please,’ she put her hand to her forehead, ‘not tonight. Speaking of these matters has wounded me sorely. Will you excuse me?’ She rose.

All the men jumped to their feet, although Rhiann stayed seated.

‘No, please, enjoy your drink and food for as long as you like.’

She swayed slightly where she stood, and Eremon put out an arm to steady her. ‘Let me see you to your quarters, lady. One fainting episode is enough this week.’

‘Thank you, cousin.’ She nodded at Rhiann. ‘You are blessed by the Goddess in your choice of husband, Rhiann. Courtesy and strength: a rare combination.’

Rhiann smiled, but her face felt tight. Samana, leaning heavily on Eremon, disappeared through another inner door, the men watching her retreating curves with a great deal of attention.

When Eremon returned he was unusually jovial, his face flushed. Rhiann excused herself, too, and left them to their drinking. The glare
of the torches around Samana’s house blotted out the stars, and when she reached the darkness of her hut she stood in the doorway to let the moonlight bathe her.

This journey had taken an uncomfortable turn. Could she trust Samana? Could she even trust Eremon? How little she really knew him! Perhaps she had acted rashly in her desire to become involved in war. Perhaps she should have stayed with her herbs and her blessings and her embroidery.
Now, Rhiann
, she chided.
You have more courage than that. It is done now, and you will see it out
. Yet she would keep her wits about her, for she already sensed some powerful energies stalking this dun.

When Eremon at last came to bed, these undercurrents seemed to gather in greater force, until they were swirling around the small hut.

Eremon did not speak to her, which was not strange. Yet for as many hours as she lay awake, so did he, tossing and shifting about more than usual. Perhaps he felt it, too.

Chapter 25

S
amana did not seek Rhiann out the next morning, pleading a headache. Instead, their entire party was offered a tour of the thriving Votadini port on the Forth. Here, a Roman merchant ship was docking, and they sat their horses and watched the rows of amphorae filled with olive oil and wine, fish sauce and figs, being unloaded on to Votadini carts. The harsh Latin tongue rang out as the dark-haired sailors carried the long, pointed jars of goods down to the pier.

Their voices reminded Rhiann of the soldiers they had seen building the fort, and she shuddered. Would this tongue one day be heard across her land? Would the songs of the bards be lost, and her people’s own musical speech stilled? No! She would die before all that made them fine was destroyed.

That afternoon the men went hunting, and as Samana had still not surfaced, Rhiann decided to take things into her own hands. The obsequious steward looked put out at her unannounced arrival, but went to find his mistress, seating Rhiann in the reception room.

After a long while, Samana appeared, looking quite well and free of headaches. Her hair was unbound, and in her simpler blue robe and absence of jewellery, she looked much more like the girl that Rhiann had known on the Sacred Isle. She ordered nettle tea, and talked of inconsequential things until it was served and they were left alone.

Mindful that they needed Samana for her information, Rhiann could not ask all that was in her heart, for fear of pushing too much. Eremon would advise her to go softly.

‘So, cousin.’ Rhiann sipped her tea. ‘It has been four years – and you look the better for it.’

Samana smiled graciously, then put her hand on Rhiann’s arm, her smile disappearing in a frown of concern. ‘I wish I could say the same
for you, Rhiann. You look so thin and drawn. We heard about the Sacred Isle.’

Rhiann jerked her arm away involuntarily, then put her tea down. ‘It was very difficult.’

Samana sighed. ‘I think of the Sisters often.’

‘Really? You were always aching to escape as soon as you could.’

That comment was unintentionally sharp, and Samana’s dark eyes flashed. ‘Too much praying and too little fun – you know it did not suit me in the end. And you were the golden child, after all, not me! The rest of us could only wait for your messages to come down from on high.’ She smiled as if she were jesting, but her voice was tinged with something else. It reminded Rhiann of Samana’s manner all those years ago. This dark, wild cousin had been a mystery to her even then.

‘And are you having fun now?’ Rhiann asked.

Samana trailed her elegant hands over the spout of a silver flagon. ‘Yes, indeed, and I am not ashamed of it. I have beautiful things around me.’ She fixed Rhiann with her dark eyes. ‘And beautiful men in my bed. What more could I want?’

Rhiann blushed and looked away, and Samana laughed softly. ‘Oh, Rhiann. I forgot that you have greater sensitivities about such things. And other priorities – after all, you must be far too busy in your role of Ban Cré to worry much about men.’

‘Well, as you can see, I have been given a fine-looking man of my own, so little do I need to worry.’ It nearly choked Rhiann to say the words.

‘Ah, yes indeed. You are very lucky, cousin.’ Samana paused. ‘And he is a brave man, too.’

‘Yes,’ Rhiann agreed, not at all enthused about talking of Eremon. She wanted to come to the real reason she was here. ‘I have to say it is admirable how you have been able to overcome your own grief at the King’s fate so easily. The story you told last night was very touching.’

She held her breath, knowing it was impertinent – but anyone with two eyes could see that Samana had been acting. Anyone with two eyes and no bulge between their legs, that is.

To her surprise, Samana just laughed. ‘Really, Rhiann,’ she drawled, dropping the brittle politeness, ‘let’s be frank now.’

‘That would be a new departure, Samana.’

‘You’ve become rather droll since I saw you last! Life away from the island has spiced you up, then. Perhaps we shall get along after all.’

Rhiann picked up her tea again. ‘What were you going to tell me?’

Samana dangled her cup between her fingers, at ease in her chair. ‘You and I both were kin to kings whom we did not care for, who would bestow our hand in marriage to any smelly, hairy chieftain if he
had enough cattle. Don’t pretend to me that your uncle’s death was a blow to your heart!’

Not in the way that you mean, anyway
, Rhiann thought.

‘So,’ Samana went on, ‘how can I pretend that I miss him, or that bunch of lecherous old men who would soon barter me away like a sack of barley? It was a blow, yes, but I’ve made the most of it. My people are still safe and have not been slaughtered in their beds. We have even more wealth pouring in. And here I sit, with more freedom than any princess in Alba. Don’t tell me you don’t envy that!’

Rhiann realized that envy of Samana’s position had not crossed her mind. ‘Freedom, Samana? When you have new masters now? How is this freedom?’

‘Oh, come,’ Samana said impatiently. ‘The Romans do not interfere with my rule. If I were some hot-headed prince bursting with pride about my lineage and my ancestors and my precious cattle – well then, perhaps such a surrender would be hard to stomach. But you and I, Rhiann, know that we women have more sense in one finger than a man does in his whole body. I did not choose it, but this suits me and my people well. Resisting now will mean their deaths, and the loss of everything we have!’

Rhiann was shaking her head. ‘I
am
a woman, and I still don’t understand, Samana. You are a priestess. The land is our Mother – you know this! How can you sit by and bear the blows of Roman tread on Her body, the tearing of Her flesh? How can you stand the rape of the trees, the sacrilege of the springs?’

Samana smiled. ‘You were always more devout than me, Rhiann. The Goddess did not choose to bestow the powers on me that she did on you. I have my own talents, and I use them well. I honour Her in my own way.’

Rhiann caught the slight, sensuous movement of Samana’s mouth, and had to look aside. She took a breath, tapping her fingers on her knee. ‘Be that as it may … will you help us?’

Samana paused. ‘Yes, of course, cousin. But what little I have to tell can wait until we are all together. No!’ She stopped Rhiann’s protest. ‘I have allowed you to have your way, and now you will respect mine. Tomorrow night we will dine again, and talk further of these matters.’

‘Tomorrow! Why won’t you meet with us tonight?’

‘I am still suffering from my headache, and will stay abed tonight. Besides, there are some administrative matters to attend to – I cannot go riding about the hills as you do!’

Rhiann regarded Samana’s glowing face and bright eyes with scepticism. Still, she could not force her to do anything.

‘To make it up to you, cousin, tomorrow I will have Carnach take
you around our lands, showing you every little thing to do with Romans. Will that sweeten your disposition?’

‘Do not talk to me like one of your brainless conquests, Samana.’

‘My, how you have grown in wit, Rhiann.’ Samana rose. ‘I look forward to further discussions, but now you must leave me. I will see you tomorrow.’

Later that night, Rhiann sat on the bed in her hut, drawing an antler comb through the ends of her hair, watching the strands fall before the fire.

She had barely seen Eremon in two days, which normally would not concern her, but during their tour of the port he had been strangely distracted. Beneath his questions and jests, she sensed a deep disturbance.

Her comb stilled, as she was struck by a new thought. Now that he had seen what came of peace with the Romans, was Eremon regretting his oath to the Epidii? She suddenly realized, in truth, how tenuous his tie to her people was. He seemed a man of honour, but he would always put his position and his men first – of course he would!

What if he thought that he would have more to gain by joining the tribes who surrendered? Goddess! Desperate to take some control, Rhiann had not thought through the implications of putting herself in the hands of his men, who were, after all, still strangers.

Her mind turned over the hints about Eremon’s past. If he was here to gain a name, as she sensed, then it did not matter to him how he won that name. And once he had won it, then of course he would be racing for home. Rhiann froze, unable to believe that she had not really considered this before.
Well, when he leaves, at least I will be free of him
! She need only pray that he remained as their defence against the Romans for as long as he was needed. What he did then was not a concern.