The Boar Stone: Book Three of the Dalriada Trilogy (39 page)

Everything was more vivid suddenly: the flames of the fire shimmering violet, the touch of the wool blanket on her bare legs. Something happened when the voices filled her …

‘Oh!’ Nessa cried in dismay, spotting Cahir. Her hand shot out to grab a little boy who had toddled into the room at her feet. ‘My lord, I am so sorry, I thought your lady was alone.’

Minna glanced at Cahir again, stifling a smile. ‘Please, lady, it is all right.’ She extended an unsteady hand. ‘This is Cahir son of Conor, King of Dalriada. And this is Gede’s queen, my lord. Queen Nessa.’

Nessa dipped her head and murmured a platitude while Cahir bowed. ‘Please stay seated.’ She gathered the toddler into her arms. ‘I will leave you—’

‘No, no,’ Minna protested. For as the laughter died and she looked upon mother and son, the firelight seemed to flare into a nimbus of gold all around the babe’s head, while Nessa’s shoulders hunched about a secret, dull as lead.

‘Stay,’ Cahir also urged the queen. ‘I have not slept well myself for two days, lady. And I could do with time to speak with my men.’ As Nessa slid the boy to the ground, Cahir glanced down at Minna, his eyes caressing her. ‘You should also sleep again,
a stór
.’

‘Ba! Ba!’ the child cried, chasing a twine ball across the floor.

After Cahir took his leave, Nessa sat gingerly on the bed. Minna’s eyes alighted on the bowl in her hands covered with a linen cloth. ‘Is that food?’ she asked hopefully. With a shy smile, Nessa unwrapped a hunk of honey bread and wedge of yellow cheese.

They were silent as Minna chewed. She swallowed, watching the little boy crawl across the rug after the ball. ‘That is a most beautiful child, lady,’ she observed.

‘Please, do call me Nessa.’ Her eyes lit up proudly as she turned her head, following him. ‘That is my son. His name is Drustan.’ In the firelight, the babe’s curls were tinged with copper.

‘And he has his father’s hair.’

Nessa’s smile faltered. ‘That he does.’

The glimmering Water within Minna shifted, though she held her tongue, smiling ruefully instead. ‘Well, I am in bed again. You must think me a very boring guest.’

‘No, no! You are quite the talk of the dun …’ She trailed away apologetically.

Minna could imagine what she had heard. Slowly, she brushed the crumbs from her lap. ‘What do they say?’ she asked frankly, meeting Nessa’s grey eyes. The peace was running warm and strong in her, and though they had fallen into talking in an easy way again – Minna and a queen – strangely it didn’t jar, or feel odd.

Nessa nervously smoothed the folds of her dress. ‘I’m not speaking of you behind your back, but the servants gossip and … it is hard to avoid.’

‘I don’t mind,’ she said softly.

The queen smiled, relieved. ‘Then they say you had miraculous visions in the pool – though the druids will not say what – and that your king claimed you as his
lennan
.’ From the upwards dart of Nessa’s eyes, it seemed she thought more of that.

‘The visions were of resistance against the Romans, an ancient battle – and the prospect of coming war. Now it is in the hands of your husband and my … Cahir … to decide what is to be done.’

Nessa absorbed that, her eyes on her son’s head as he plucked at the frayed edge of the rug. ‘Gede will agree to go to war if that is what your king wants. He will always wield his sword, given the chance.’

A ripple of contempt ran beneath the queen’s words, and in the silence that followed, secrets slipped among the shadows like wraiths. The gold-haired child stopped tugging and stared into the dark corners beyond the fire.

Nessa glanced apprehensively at Minna now, and Minna instantly read what lay in the queen’s eyes and knew she did not want to be set apart ever again. ‘You don’t need to fear me, lady,’ she said simply, the grace so new on her tongue, in her voice. ‘I am just the same as I was.’

Nessa looked away, her cheeks crimson. ‘I’m sorry. I’m not very good at talking to women. Gede discourages friendships with the nobles’ wives and …’ She gestured sharply, frustrated and helpless. ‘I am allowed no ladies of rank as companions. Only the servants.’ That was odd. The whispers rustled in the shadows. Abruptly, the queen stood up. ‘And I nearly forgot – that is why I came to see if you were awake! There is a leaf-bud fair today and it’s sunny. I know you are probably feeling too tired, but …’ Her brows arched hopefully.

‘
Yes
!’ Minna grinned. ‘I am
not
tired. My limbs are twitching and I need to move or I’ll go mad. I’ve slept for a night and almost a day as it is. Please let us go; you must free me.’

Nessa brushed Drustan’s hair as he stumbled against her leg. ‘Only if you are well enough. I’ll be in trouble from your king if not.’

Her only answer was a snort, for Minna was already throwing back the covers.

Placing her son in the hands of a serving woman, Nessa gave Minna a simple dress of green wool, and Minna swiftly bound her hair in one braid over her shoulder. Along with the fur cloak for the wind, she took the other roll of honey bread to eat as she walked.

The meadow outside the fort gates sloped down to the white beach, the grass crowded now with people. It was the first fair since the long dark gave way to sun. People bartered what they had made in the previous months: leather belts and shoes, bolts of wool, fur edgings and embroidered hems, crocks of cheese and jars of honey, brooches and strung beads.

Filling her lungs with salt air, Minna wandered among the stalls, glad to stretch her legs. They were wobbly at first, but strengthened quickly, her shoulders loosening as if they had been bowed for months. She walked beside Nessa with her head raised, and saw the glances come her way, and the whispers.

Men traded from carts while women spread their wares on cloaks. Strips of meat sizzled over fires, and girls slapped dough with bare hands, laying bannocks on griddles. Children, shaking off the long dark, chased each other down to the beach to dig up shells and seaweed.

Minna breathed. It was all so vivid, as if she had been asleep for months. The sunlight on the sea glittered, the waves rushed up the sands with a loud hiss. She could taste the roasting meat on the air.

Then all at once she felt compelled to turn around. They had wandered up a rise near the gates, and so she could gaze right out across the marshes and woods and low hills, seeing far to the south and west. There was a dark line on the horizon. Minna shaded her eyes.

Nessa was at a jeweller’s cart hung with beads. As the trader spoke, she ran a string of chunky amber through her fingers, feeling its weight. The crowd flowed around them, but Minna could not force herself to move. The chatter and laughter and cries of children receded.
The Caledonii mountains
.

The water within her moved again, and in her mind she glimpsed a pale horse, ears tilted towards those same hills, walking at the head of a murmuring sea of men. An army: vast, faceless. And on the reins, a slim hand and a gold ring.

The salt-weathered trader held the beads up to the sun, exclaiming something to Nessa. Minna barely heard the answering murmur, for she was caught by a terrible sense of doom, a memory grey and thick as the clouds hanging over the army. Did Rhiann go to war at Eremon’s side, then, to meet their fate at the Hill of a Thousand Spears? Her eyes glazed, Minna brushed the incised surface of the ring slowly with one finger.

When she at last looked down, rousing herself, it was straight into a pair of iridescent green eyes, set in the wizened face of an old woman on the far side of the fair. Their gazes locked.

‘Minna.’ Nessa’s voice startled her. ‘Which do you think is prettier? The blue or the green?’ She had bought the amber and was now holding up a string of glass beads.

Minna murmured something vague, jarred by a sense of recognition when she looked at the old woman. But she had never seen her before.
Sister.
The word was breathed into her ear by the breeze.

She was halfway across the fair before Nessa caught her up. ‘Where are you going?’

The old woman was on the edge of the fair, in a space left around her by the other traders. She was sitting cross-legged on a tatty cloak, her pure white hair hanging about her shoulders like a fall of snow. On the cloak sat little scoops of leaves, knots of bark, dried roots and crushed powders.

‘A herb-woman,’ Minna murmured.

‘She is the wise-woman,’ Nessa hissed, ‘and her mind is unsound. Leave her, Minna.’

But her feet were moving without conscious thought, and then she was squatting in front of the ragged cloak, smiling a greeting. ‘May I?’ she said in Dalriadan, gesturing at a knot of leaves on a curl of birch bark. The old woman nodded, her bright green eyes curious. Minna crushed a shred between her fingers to smell it.

The herbalist was slight, but her limbs were strong and gnarled as driftwood, wrapped in layers of fringed wool that flapped in the wind. ‘It is … mountain … leaf,’ the woman replied in the same language, the words faltering as if being drawn up from distant memory. Her voice was as weathered as her cheeks. ‘For boils. Drawing pus … breaking open.’

She knew the
gael
speech. Minna nodded, surprised. The druids still retained the tongue, though, so others might. Those seaweed eyes were bright with mischief as the woman cocked her head. ‘What were you looking at girl, eh?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘In the air, over there. You were seeing something. I saw you. I
smelled
it.’ She reached out one bony finger and touched Minna’s forehead, right between her eyes.

The skin prickled, and Minna rubbed it away as the old woman sat back with a sly smile. Teal feathers dangled from a lock of white hair at her temple, and there were shells on a thong around her scrawny neck. ‘Darine saw the light around you. It shimmers like the night-banners that hang in the northern sky. You saw something, and it made you sad.’ She cackled knowingly. You can
see
.’

Minna’s breath was snatched from her. She looked at those eyes and she knew her, and yet didn’t know her.

Then the old woman wasn’t looking at her any more but up to the sky, her awareness clouded and distant. ‘You remember the sword-king,’ she whispered. ‘
They
tell me. You remember the old battle.’

She stifled an exclamation. ‘Calgacus?’

‘That’s the one!’ The woman grinned. ‘The eagle king lived near here to the west. But
no one
knows that except the druid priests – and Darine. Darine knows many such things, if anyone would ask. Darine has travelled to east and south and even lands of the
gael
.’ She pointed with her chin at the people jostling all about. ‘But
they
don’t care. They have forgotten everything.’ Her green eyes were suddenly sharp, inscrutable. ‘You have remembered, though, and those with sense run away from such memories,
gael
child. Are you touched in the head like me?’

Minna smiled tightly. ‘There are questions I need to answer. I am just searching, that is all.’

‘Ah … searching. We are all searching.’ She stared off into space, sucking her lip through a gap in her teeth. ‘Darine does not see, but she hears. There are mutterings and mumblings all around, even here. The fey ones speak.’ Abruptly, she began batting away something invisible. ‘Aye, aye!’ she muttered. ‘I hear, I hear!’

Minna was just edging back when Darine’s eyes pinned her there, clear again. ‘They say to invite you to my fire now. To show you something.’

Her pulse quickened. ‘Show me what?’

Darine looked affronted. ‘How should I know?’ Instantly, she was on her feet, lithe despite her age. ‘Come, come.’ She began gathering up her belongings, pouring leaves and roots back into earthen jars, packing them in a basket. ‘I live down there on the sand, in the dunes. Close to the sea, I like. Away from all the people, the stink, the smoke.’

‘Come to your home … now?’

Darine sighed. ‘Aye, I can’t be doing with the visitors either. But you try ignoring the spirits, girly, and see if they leave
you
alone.’

Her words penetrated Minna, and suddenly she knew why she came out this day. Her lips moved slowly, but her heart beat faster. ‘I don’t want to ignore her. I have to reach out to her.’ Her: the spirit woman who held out love, and then took it away.

Darine glanced at her sharply. Nessa said Minna’s name again, taking her arm and drawing her away. She did not miss the glance exchanged between the queen and the old woman: Nessa afraid, Darine smiling slyly while touching her head with respect.

‘We must go now.’ Nessa was frowning. ‘Come, there are other stalls to see.’

Minna glanced back at Darine packing her herbs, muttering to herself. ‘You go on. I will take tea with the wise-woman.’

‘
Tea
!’ Nessa squawked, then lowered her voice. ‘But … you can’t. She is a witch,’ she hissed.

‘She is learned in herb-lore,’ Minna replied calmly. ‘You know I have been learning the healing skills. There are things I need to speak of with her.’

Guilt flickered over the queen’s face, before she turned her cheek away. ‘You shouldn’t go. It’s not safe.’

‘Why? She seems harmless enough.’

‘
Harmless
? She makes potions and spells and—’

‘Nessa.’ Minna touched her hand. ‘When people say those things it is only because they don’t understand. She brews healing draughts, nothing more.’

Nessa’s nostrils were pinched. ‘Nothing more.’ She sighed and stepped back. ‘Then be careful.’

‘Of course, and will you send a message to Cahir telling him where I am, and that I will be back this afternoon before dark?’

Minna hastened after the old woman Darine as she ambled off along the sands, wondering at the racing of her heart.

Chapter 37