Caledonia Destiny Page 5

  A roar sounded nearby yet Roi dared not divert his eyes, ignoring both the tumult and the piercing cries from the ravens. Lord Ewen and Lord Walter had two kinsmen to ensure Lord Walter’s safety. Struggling to keep from being stabbed, Roi and his foe continued to roll as he fought for a hold upon the dagger. His enemi landed on something that caused him to falter and jerk awkwardly. Roi took advantage, driving the knife into the man’s chest to its crudely adorned hilt afore quickly scrambling away. In a weary fog, Roi searched for another weapon; two more cutthroats needed yet to find death at the tip of his blade.

  Someone gripped his upper arm from behind. Roi spun, ready to battle… and lost all advantage as both arms were wrenched up behind his back with lightning speed. Roi found himself looking up into Lord Ewen’s dark amber gaze, his chest even with Lord Ewen’s, every ragged breath pushing him into his dark warrior.

  It was not until then that Roi beheld Lord Ewen’s lips moving, though he heard only the rushing wind. Blinking, confounded, he shook his head. Slowly, sounds came clear.

  “There you go. Calm down. All danger be past.” The words were low and gruff, right upon the edge of a growl yet oddly soothing rather than alarming.

  His eyelids fluttered closed at the sound of Lord Ewen’s voice. Of all the times he had seen the man in his dreams, Roi had not heard him speak until this day. Gods above, how he affected him. What would Lord Ewen do once he knew Roi preferred men to women? Would he be seen as someone vile? Surely his warrior had obligations, a wife and children. Even if Lord Ewen did not turn away what Roi could offer, where would he fit in this noble guardian’s life? Roi no longer belonged anywhere, natheless he wanted to belong to Lord Ewen, be with him, stand by his side. And yet he dared not speak of it, for he feared Lord Ewen mayn’t understand. How could he? Roi had known Lord Ewen all his life, but his dark warrior knew him not at all.

  And yet to taste him, if only once… Roi would ransom a nation to be able to freely do so.

  He opened his eyes to behold Lord Ewen’s steady gaze. Those warm eyes, lined by thick, sooty lashes, lightened from a soft golden brown to a hazel green. Long, straight pieces of dark hair escaped the leather thong holding the ebony locks back, and his skin was covered in sweat, grime spattering the closely cropped moustache and beard.

  The corner of Lord Ewen’s full lips lifted in a half smile. Roi’s groin grew heavy with need at the sight. “You shall do well, pagan, and make a fine addition to my house.”

  He released Roi, his palms sliding up Roi’s arms afore they came to rest upon his shoulders. Roi stamped down upon his need, for the robes would not disguise his rising desire for long. Lord Ewen’s nostrils flared, and his pupils expanded afore he took a quick step back.

  No one loitered within hearing, leaving them alone. Lord Arailt and Lord Donn, along with the High Steward, were gone. The cawing of ravens filled the air as they hopped about and over the corpses. If Lord Ewen noticed the birds watched them instead of gleaning morsels, he said naught. The eyes of the Mórrígan, who they took interest in, whether it be him or Lord Ewen, Roi knew not.

  To ward against restless ghosts, he made the sign of the battle blessing. Removing the correct rune from his belt pouch, he flipped the stone onto the field afore gathering his sword and shield.

  Lord Ewen crouched over the bodies of the would-be murderers, fingering their ribands, the colour singling them out as king’s men. “This makes no sense. Why would they beset the steward now? The battle already be won!”

  Roi snagged a heavy coin purse off one, glancing inside then passing the leather pouch over. “Mayhap the target be not the steward.”

  Searching the other two bodies, he came back with similar purses heavy with gold and silver coin. It was a small fortune, far more than a soldier would earn in even a twelvemonth. He avoided Lord Ewen’s stare, refusing to meet that keen gaze.

  “You believe I be their prey?” Lord Ewen’s gaze seemed to weigh Roi.

  He scowled at the two fat pouches in his fist, weighing what to make known to his liege. “I have not been in yer presence long. Still, even I see who has issue with ye. I spent three years in the King of the Isles’ court reading people. If they had sought only the steward’s life, they would have ensured he be alone, not with his best men.”

  Lord Ewen’s eyes narrowed, and then he grunted. Did he agree, or dismiss Roi’s judgement?

  They stood at the same time. The day had been long, and Roi was weary. He wanted to be away, where he could relax, not here upon the reeking field of battle. Roi’s head spun and sight blurred. When he blinked, Lord Ewen had grasped his arm, holding him steadfast.

  “Not much longer and we both can rest.”

  V

  THE KING OF THE ISLES had been raiding along the coast for the last several months. King Malcolm had ordered his knights and men-at-arms to Castle Renfra, which sat nigh to the junction of the Rivers Clyde and White Cart, after the King of the Isles ignored King Malcolm’s demand of fealty and the resignation of his lands. Ewen had received the summons from his liege-lord, the Mormaer of Athall, and presented himself and his able-bodied men to the High Steward.

  By the time Ewen led Roi back to camp, Donn and Arailt had handed the High Steward off to his knights. The tents belonging to Ewen’s house were pitched outside the main body of the men-at-arms. By his count, it appeared more than half the knights assembled were Scoto-Norman, and better outfitted than those the King of the Isles had brought across the firth.

  Earlier, Walter had graciously offered Ewen the use of his bathing tent, whereupon he accepted, sending Arailt and Roi through to bathe whilst he saw to last minute trifles. Walter expected the four of them to attend him in the castle’s great hall afore they ventured off to bed. After a quick clean up, Ewen supped at Walter’s table and stayed an appropriate length of time afore begging off. Arailt parted ways with them, in search of distraction or a warm body for bed play. Even at the late hour, the victory feast continued, the merrymakers like to drink and wassail until sunrise.

  Finally done for the day and looking forward to a soaking, Ewen followed Donn into the deserted bathing tent, the warmth and humidity enveloping him upon entering.

  “Ye have heard not a word I said,” Donn stated as he shed his clothes. The armour had been doffed earlier, leaving only tunics and leggings, though they had retained their sword belts. After the sly ambush earlier, Ewen’s kinsmen all sat upon a watchful edge.

  “It be not apurpose, brother. Much weighs upon my mind.” Ewen pulled the tunic over his head and laid it to the side. They had brought fresh clothing, Ewen’s being the only clean set he had left. He had yet to find a woman to launder his garments. Mayhap Roi would be amenable?

  He had commanded Arailt find clothing for Roi after the pagan declined to retrieve any property from Gillie Ainndreis’ tents. Did Roi wish for Ewen to see naught of how Roi lived, or evidence of how he served the court? Ewen cared not what the reason was; he would not take Roi across country in those crimson robes. The crude colour would draw every outlaw and cutpurse betwixt them and Loch Raineach. Ewen grew tired of bloodshed and had no wish to summon more.

  “There! Again!” Donn accused. “What holds yer thoughts?” He stepped into a large, round, waist-high wooden tub that could easily seat six men.

  Afore Ewen stepped into the water, he placed the shaving kit Arailt had retrieved for him upon the stand next to the tub. “I be thinking on what Roi said this afternoon. He believed I were the murderers’ target, not Walter.”

  “As I told ye ere now, he discerns what other men do not.”

  Ewen sank down into the tepid water and sighed wearily. After so many days in battle there was no place his body did not ache. “I know not why you believe him gifted. He admits to no such affliction. Natheless, he seemed sure. If the King of the Isles’ court be half as corrupt as I have heard, then Roi’s judgement of the matter may be closer to the truth than I would wish.”

  “Do we dare trust him?”

>   Mayhap, aye, though Ewen knew not why.

  Ewen accepted the coarse lump of soap he and Donn passed back and forth as they washed. “He smells…” Ewen could not place his finger upon what he sensed.

  Granda’s long agone words stayed fresh in Ewen’s mind. He had said one day Ewen might meet a man who bore the markings of the old gods upon his visage. This man would be familiar to Ewen, calling to his inner self as an old lover or friend would, though Ewen knew him not. Bear would act unlike himself in the man’s presence. If this foreigner did not drive his mathan mad, then he could possibly have the ability to undo the heinous act of his ancestor, Reginald the Wicked, who trapped a bear spirit under his skin to become the first wyrbear. All of Reginald’s lineage were accurst, never able to leave the forest for an extended length of time afore being afflicted with a longing that, if overlooked, would drive them mad.

  When he had asked Granda how the foreigner would break the curse, Granda had stared at him with hard eyes and replied that the how was not for the ears of a child. Ewen dared not ask again. What act he would need to carry out to free his people, he knew not. He had not confided to any the revelations of their origins. As a youth, he had sworn he would find a way without Granda’s help. Ewen had been born with the strongest-willed mathan spirit. Forsooth, he had thought, if he were cursèd, together he and Bear would break the binding. They needed no aid from outsiders to do so. But the older Ewen grew, the harder it became to believe the mythical tales. Until one day he quit believing in any of the tellings about the curse.

  With the arrival of the pagan, Ewen thought back to Granda’s teachings once again. After a day brooding over what he recalled of the lore, Ewen still believed naught of his granda’s foretelling. Though Roi showed signs of being more than he appeared, he be only a man. Bear might desire to claim Roi, but even so, that meant naught to Ewen. Roi had no power to save them, yet by the same token, he might be able to destroy who the wyrbears were as a people. According to the legend, when the curse was lifted the wyrbears would be parted from their animals, freeing the mathans from the cages of human bodies. But who were his people without their mathans? No, Ewen refused to believe such. What he had witnessed of Roi so far did not portend the ruin of his people.

  Donn stopped scrubbing and stared at Ewen, bringing him out of his dark musings. “Simply because ye cannot cruth-atharrachadh does not mean ye can glean no information from Bear,” he admonished.

  Each mathan revealed their name to their human early in their partnership, except for Ewen’s. He withheld his, so Ewen simply called him Bear. Blind to their constant fighting, everyone thought that to be the name Bear had bestowed unto Ewen. However, though Ewen’s kinsmen shared an equal bond with their mathan spirit, Ewen did not.

  On every wyr child’s ninth twelvemonth their mathan awakened. For an unknown reason Bear had woken early. Not readied, Ewen had almost shifted in front of a room of strangers. Ewen did not remember much from the point when Bear awoke, but Granda had been furious Ewen lacked the strength of will to command Bear. When all was said and done, Granda had let go of his anger, professing that the early waking had caused Ewen’s mathan to turn feral. He had required Ewen wear an amulet that helped him gain the upper hand over Bear until a more lasting solution could be found.

  For the longest time, Ewen had thought Granda wrong about Bear’s madness, until they were set upon whilst travelling. He had been overcome by a berserker rage. Granda claimed Ewen had not shifted, yet he could recall naught of his actions. From then on, he had paid mind to Granda’s lessons upon how to control Bear and temper the feral rage that overcame his mathan.

  Nowadays, Bear refused to interact with Ewen for the most part, either scorning Ewen completely or taking over in battle with berserker rage. As time passed, Bear acted more and more melancholy. But since meeting Roi, Bear had behaved out of character, more alive and watchful. Almost expectant. Ewen knew not what to make of him.

  “Bear be besotted,” Ewen acknowledged. “Even now I struggle with him, for he yearns to be near the pagan, almost goading me to return to Roi’s side. He has not been this active since I be a boy.” The confession released a tension within that Ewen had been not aware of.

  As the one person closest to Ewen, his brother knew about a few of the struggles he had with Bear—but not all. He feared confiding overmuch to Donn, because every now and then Ewen saw Donn’s disapproving countenance. Da had taught Donn the old ways, and Donn accepted as truth the ancient tellings, even those warning of the return of the guardians. Da's tellings were not the same as those given unto Ewen by Granda Shaye. Considering that all wyrbears were guardians of the Caledonia Forest, Granda’s claim the guardians would do more harm than good made no sense. Donn gave credence to the lore of their da. That, plus Ewen’s doubts, were points of strife betwixt them; from time to time their quarrelling over it threatened to tear them asunder.

  “Granda warned that our animals would become attached to certain people,” Donn pointed out. “Methinks there be no rhyme nor reason why. Lannah’s mathan be fond of Simon because he holds silence in a tight fist, whilst Tomas’s mathan likes Aimili’s ability to climb trees.”

  “What would Caitriona think?” Ewen spoke not oft of his deceased wife, his maik. That he did not choke or stumbled over her name, as he had done in the past, gave him a surprise.

  His brother’s amber eyes softened. “She knew the clan’s heritage afore she agreed to be yer bride. Human she might have been, yet she accepted our ways because she were raised to them. Our human side can choose a spouse, a maik, just as our mathan can choose a companion, a marrae. At times the two be not the same person.” Donn ducked quickly under the water, rinsing the soap from his hair, and then wiped water from his eyes. “Be ye concerned that Bear chose a male marrae, or do ye feel guilty? Ye have been widowed over a twelvemonth. The time for mourning be past. Yer love for Caitriona shan’t be lessened simply because ye have found Bear’s marrae. She would want ye to be happy. Look at Granda. Seoc became his maik-marrae after Granma passed. Ye know he loved her, yet he adored Seoc deeply, not unlike the deep feelings he held for Granma.”

  Ewen nodded in agreement only to hide his worries. “Bear’s reaction to Roi be strong. He attempts to overwhelm me if I do not have a firm hand upon him.”

  “Yer stranglehold causes Bear to turn a deaf ear to ye, and to wrestle with ye. If ye deny him his marrae, he may withdraw altogether,” Donn warned. Ewen disagreed but held his tongue, for he wished not to bicker with his brother over Bear’s behaviour.

  Donn climbed out of the tub and dried off with coarse linen. After clothing himself, his brother grabbed the shaving kit and came to stand behind Ewen. He leaned back, waiting as Donn mixed the lather afore taking the shears to Ewen’s hair. “Walter shall be glad to see ye clean shaven. Ye realize he only tolerated it because he sympathized with ye mourning Caitriona. Ye ought not push him or King Malcolm so. Being clean shaven as a noble ought should soothe any ruffled feathers amongst the lords.”

  To be clean shaven was the custom of the king’s court, and like a mere commoner, Ewen had sported a full beard since Catriona’s untimely death. The High Steward had shown Ewen much tolerance as a favoured noble of the court, but Walter’s patience waned. Many eyes already fell upon Ewen’s kin for their strange dress and customs, but their loyalty was above question.

  Ewen sighed. “Aye, I know. For the last ten twelvemonths, anyone with substantial power or backing has attempted to overthrow King Malcolm. This challenge by the King of the Isles be only the latest. The mourning of my maik has no place in the dealings of court.”

  Donn grunted. Neither Donn nor Ewen were at ease speaking of the country’s state of affairs without firm walls around them, so he kept what was said betwixt them bland in case passersby overheard their conversation. “Did you pick up the same smells as I did about Gillie Ainndreis this day? His scent twined with Cináed’s, did it not? I suspected Cináed had foul affairs, but to go so far awry
as to land himself in the enemi’s court… what manner of dealings would he have there?”

  “Aye, I did. I wondered if that be the reason why he pressed ye to spill Roi’s blood. If he spent time brewing treachery in the court of the King of the Isles, Roi may have been witness to his treason.” Bear reared up, demanding Ewen protect Roi at all cost, but not in words. His mathan had refused to speak to Ewen after he attempted to tame Bear as Granda instructed. Instead, he sent visions of tearing Cináed’s throat out. Ewen shivered at Bear’s cold satisfaction at the image of blood welling from all the wounds Bear would inflict on his kinsman.

  Donn stared down at him, his face difficult for Ewen to read. “Roi reminds me of Da’s stories of the old ways, afore the Romans came bringing their God and abbeys. Of a time when it be said the gods and goddesses walked amongst the people, granting favours to the worthy and giving them signs of protection to wear. I wish I lived in that time, hunting with the Picts, my body marked with sacred tokens and patterns. Do you think Roi studied the old ways? Shall he be open to being a marrae to you? I sense he be unlike others, though that does not mean he will consider you as a lover if it be not in his nature.”

  Ewen closed his eyes, wishing he could take in Roi’s smell again. “I scented arousal this day when he came nigh. The way he watches me, as if he be expecting—something. I should wait until he comes to know us. He shall be living under my roof, and sooner rather than later I need speak to him about the clan’s heritage. He has a keen sight, seeing what others do not—can not. Even if he consents to being my maik-marrae, it shall come to naught if he cannot accept our mathan spirits.”