Hag of the Hills, page 31
I mulled over what he said for a while. I drank from my cup, barely listening to my men speaking of their stories. The king’s son, Talorc, a broad-chested, broad-shouldered but baby-faced man of about my age sat at our table. He wished to speak with me, because he had heard of an Ashaiger with a bronze sword and it caught his interest, but he ended up in a conversation with Artaxes who spoke too much about his own exploits. I looked at Talorc’s inked-black body, attempting to make out the patterns that would send me a sign. No such sign came.
Perhaps it would be best to leave Skye. Tratonius may have been right. How could I stand against the grey tide of flint? It would topple me, crush me, drive me down. What was there left to fight for on Skye? For Fenn Beg Corm, another foreigner? The Ashaiger clan had been annihilated, and all the other clans have fallen.
‘And what if Rome is already plundered by the time we get there?’ I asked.
‘We go to Greece,’ he said.
‘And what if Greece is already plundered?’ and now Artaxes looked at me.
‘Greece isn’t one city, but many. Did I not teach you that?’
‘And if all the cities of Greece are plundered?’
‘Egypt,’ Tratonius said. ‘Anatolia. Persia. India. Sinai, perhaps something beyond. There will always be plunder for men like us.’
I ceased drinking my ale. ‘I am not like you,’ I said, my eyes low. ‘I am for my own people, not just for plunder.’
‘Not just,’ Tratonius said with a toothy grin. ‘That’s right. Not just. We were all once not just, now we are just.’
At daybreak, we all rose to wash the blood, grime, and muck off our bodies. Fenn Beg Corm declared that we should wash in the sidhe pools, the wee pools of blue and green deep in the valley of the Cuillins.
The crisp morning air greeted us in the valley, where the crickets still chirped in the heather off the pathway to the pools. The pools themselves were part of a watercourse that cascaded down into a series of wee waterfalls. Cattos, Antedios and I jumped in in succession. I submerged and then broke surface, wheezing. The water was frigid; I gasped but dared not remove myself from it, since Antedios and Cattos did not either.
I gasped again, and I wished to leave. I swam toward the rocky shore without thought, and then my head fell below the water again. One of the lads had dunked me!
Back to the surface, and they both laughed.
‘What, too cold for you, lord Vidav?’ Cattos asked. ‘I’ve been in colder water!’
Before I could react, Antedios jumped on my back. The lad’s legs were over my shoulders, and he attempted to grab a hold of the little hair I had on my head.
‘Your hair is too short, I can’t hold on!’
Then came Cattos, who climbed up on us, and I began to wobble and then Antedios slipped and the three of us chopped down into the water. I came back up, gasping again, and I wiped my eyes to find Frowon standing over us, motioning toward me.
‘Lord,’ she said, she had a shy smile and looked a bit red. ‘Myrnna wants to see you. She’s just over in the next pool,’ she said in her best Celtic.
I hauled myself up onto the rocky ledge, pulled my trousers up and they stuck to my wet legs. I scrambled up the slope and headed to the further pool. There the pool had three waterfalls that gently washed into them, and in the middle of the turquoise starburst, Myrnna stood shoulder-deep in the water. Her hair had been loose and it hung in black wet locks behind her. Her skin contrasted so milky white against her dark hair and the bright floor of the pool. My eyes edged down toward her breasts, her hard, pink nipples visible below the surface, but then I caught her big, shiny, brown eyes.
‘Thank you for coming,’ she said as I edged closer to the bank of the pool. I hopped over a stream and stood at the ledge, then headed down the rocky path, and stood just a few arm’s lengths away from Myrnna in the pool.
‘Are you happy to have a bath?’ she asked. I nodded, then her face went grim.
‘Tell me, please, what is your decision?’ she asked.
‘I’m going to stay and fight,’ I said.
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ I asked, unsure what she meant.
‘Why must you fight?’ she asked.
‘The Hillmen aren’t defeated yet,’ I said. ‘They must be driven from Skye.’
‘They won’t be,’ she said, nearly a whisper.
‘As long as I live, they will,’ I said.
‘Beg Corm was right,’ she said. ‘It was luck that we survived that march! I was so scared, I was so scared! They had me, that poor dog saved me… oh…’ She said, her hands clenched to her sternum. ‘And you saved me.’
‘I swore an oath to your father that I would,’ I said, and I gulped, and looked up at the grey sky, wondering if Ambicatos would acknowledge that act.
‘He really liked you,’ she said, looking down at the water. ‘He must have been so proud of you.’
I kept gazing up at the sky, the clouds swirling over the saffron horizon.
‘He wanted what was best for me, and that was to be protected by you. He also must be happy that you refused to wed me to Fenn Beg Corm. But now you’ve gotten me to Dun Torrin, we are safe, and from here, we should leave.’
‘Leave?’
‘I… I don’t want to be here,’ she said, ‘I’m tired of it all. The war, the battles, the skulls… the Hillmen, who tried to kidnap me… the sidhe that come out at night, the hag… I’m tired of it all. And then Sabella… I hate her, I really hate her! And Fenn Beg Corm’s disgusting, nasty, horrible gaze!’ She sighed. ‘It’s tiresome.
‘I want my old life back. I want to leave here. I want to go somewhere else,’ she swam toward me. ‘We can leave. You’re a lord now. You have gold. You can take the gold and buy some land and cattle somewhere, somewhere far away from here and the war and Beg Corm, somewhere far away where we can live peacefully with our cows. That is what I want, Brenn, that is what I want, I want to be away from here and to just live quietly.’
‘But the Hillmen killed your father,’ I said, and that came out as a groan, ‘they burned Dun Ashaig. Do you not remember, when the women were strangling their children upon the hillfort? Do you not remember your mother, Myrnna?’
‘Don’t you dare tell me what my parents would have wanted! They would have wanted you to obey my wishes!’
‘I swore revenge,’ I said.
‘And how many did you kill?’ she asked, her voice cracking. ‘How many more need to die before your vengeance is over?’
‘All,’ I said, and I laughed, and her mouth dropped agape. ‘It will not be over until I have the so-called queen’s head.’
‘Why, Brenn?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘It’s what my father would have wanted.’
I ceased laughing. We stared at each other. I had nothing to say now. She knew her father better than I, far better, but I never swore to quit fighting.
‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘I can’t just leave. I can’t just give up. The gods will decide who is the master of Skye, and if they decide against us, then I would rather die with my brethren than live somewhere foreign.’
‘But why, Brenn?’ she said, and now she eased up out of the water. I watched the jiggling of her breasts covered in goosepimples, her nipples hard. She had been shivering and her arms wrapped feebly around her body. Streamlets came down from her netherhair. Her body was so white against the grey stones and red swathe of heather behind her. She waded toward me.
‘My father told you that the man we agree on, you and I, is to wed me,’ she said.
She came so close. She grabbed my hand. Her eyes erred to my groin which showed my feelings. Red, she looked away, but keeping my hand, motioned to me join her in the cold water.
‘We can have a life together,’ she said. Her hands reached to the rope of my trousers and untied the knot, and they slipped away. She glanced down, reddened deep, looked away, and I entered the cold water with her. She held my hands, her cold skin so soft, and I felt them rumbling against mine.
‘We can leave this blood-stained land. You can rid us of those awful mercenaries – I hate them! Keep Frowon as a houseslave. Release the rest, but take the gold and suchlike and the mules, buy us land, buy us some slaves and cattle. We could be happy there. Someplace far away. You can have your old life back… you could be Brenn again,’ she said, and her lip trembled. She was shivering and she drew closer to me, and soon her body was pressed against mine, and Luceo, never more had I been so tempted to break my oath.
I could hardly speak. I was so nervous that my knees shook. Not Badb, but Bride fluttered in my chest, and Cernunnos drove my lust.
‘You can be Brenn again,’ she said as her hot breath whisked against my face. ‘You could wed me.’
She wrapped her arms around my neck and leaned in close. Her wet breasts squeaked against my chest. Her sopping hair braised my shoulders. She leaned in further and kissed me on the cheek, with the edge of her lips touching mine. She held it here, and I felt her breathing against me.
She swallowed. She looked at me, her eyes shining, and then she cried. She wrapped herself against me and cried, on my shoulder, her hot tears against my cold flesh. She kept crying and sobbing until her head bobbed against me.
After a spell, she pulled back, and holding my hand, just stared at me.
‘I would love to wed you,’ I said, and she kept staring. ‘But we must stay in Dun Torrin,’ I said.
She said nothing for a while. She waded away from me, then she picked up her sponge and soap and leaned against the rocks.
‘Oh Brenn,’ she said, and I knew she knew that it irked me that she called me that. ‘Will you really swear an oath to that old king?’
‘If I must,’ I said, watching her breasts jiggle as she scrubbed them with the sponge.
She then turned around, and leaned forward, gripping a boulder with one arm and washing her back with the other. She extended her back and looked over her shoulder, grinning at me. ‘What shall you decide? Brenn, I really don’t want to stay here.’
She approached me, and biting her lower lip, wrapped a hand around my manhood. She giggled, looking up at me, as I breathed heavily, with an overwhelming desire to take her. I closed my eyes and turned my head and tried to pull away, but she tugged back on my manhood. ‘Don’t you want to wed me?’
‘I will not leave Skye!’
Her mouth agape, she pulled away, waded back over to the rocks and picked up a cobble and chucked it. She did it again, and again and soon she began beating the sponge against the berg. ‘I want out of here!’ She cried.
Sabella and Frowon peeked their heads over the edge of the cliff and peered down on us in the pool. They came down and Myrnna called Frowon over to bathe her, and Frowon did so.
‘Why hello, Domine,’ Sabella said, licking her lips, and tickled my manhood. I pulled away from her but Myrnna huffed and shook her head.
I returned to the other pool. I bathed, found my clothes, and prepared myself to submit to king Fenn Beg Corm. I was to be his oathman, his attack dog, his warrior. And I would have my revenge against Slighan and
her Hillmen.
CHAPTER XXII
Myrnna dressed me in my tent. She fastened my belt around me. She fingered my brooch, ran her yellow nail along the clip and fastened my cloak over my collar. Then she retrieved my Vidav from the chest and kneeled before me as she handed it and bowed her head. I secured Vidav in its scabbard. Myrnna stood up, and looked at me with wet eyes, then turned away. I took her hand and we left the tent.
My men were all suited up, too, the seven of them in their finest clothes, weapons, and armour. We approached the hall of Fenn Beg Corm. His guards came. We disarmed and entered the musty hall.
Fenn Beg Corm sat on his seat, stripped to the waist, petting each hand on the heads of his wolfhounds. I held Myrnna’s hand and she held back tight. Fenn Beg Corm raised his upper lip at the sight of my men.
His face relaxed. He stood up, walked over to me, and pointed down.
‘On your knees,’ he said.
I complied. He neared and I could smell him. He was sweaty and stinky, but both his odour and the smell of flowers adorned him.
He wrapped his arm around my head and pulled my face into his chest. His hairy breast prickled my nose. His skin felt hard and leathery, and he wrapped his arms around my head. My lips touched his soft, pink nipple. I leaned my head away, but he pulled me back into him. I fell to my knees and tried to rise, tried to straighten my knees so I could pull away, but he just drew me in closer, my nose banging against his hard flesh, and he now commanded me.
‘Suckle me, child.’
I sucked his nipple. I suckled it like a babe, and my eyes teared and I sucked, and he held me close to his breast. It tasted awful, it made sickening noises, and Tratonius looked askance. Someone laughed, probably Aldryd.
Kneeling, face against his old breast, lips wrapped around his nipple, sucking and sucking. I trembled, and then, after I stewed in my humiliation long enough, thinking of my ancestors, my family, and my Gods all witnessing this, he released me. I fell back onto the cold dirt floor, stood up, and wiped the spittle from my lips.
‘Now leave,’ the king said, and sat back on his throne.
I turned away, not looking my men in the eyes. Myrnna said something and I ignored her. I walked outside the fort walls, rounded them toward the coast, and sat down on a block of stone and gazed out at the rolling grey ocean. It was drizzling, though the sun still shone, and the breeze was chilly. I sat there for a long time, until Marthelm came over. He grabbed me by the shoulder.
‘I am humiliated, what would my father say?’ I asked him.
‘There is no shame in doing what you must do to avenge your people.’
‘He made me suck his nipple, I felt like a baby.’
Marthelm laughed. This was just the second time I heard him laugh.
‘You even laugh at me,’ I said.
‘It is funny,’ he said, ‘but forget it, yes? Now we will fight against the Hillmen, and you will have your revenge, yes?’
A horn sounded. We both perked up and looked toward the trackway that led from the glen to the fort. Three dark figures came on foot, and we headed toward them. They were three Hillmen, the one in the centre holding a wreath of flowers, and the other two showing their palms. They were met by Eponians ahorse at the gate, and the Hillmen entered.
Hours later, we found out that peace had been obtained. The Hillmen sued for peace and promised to deliver ten cartloads of grain, ten cattle, and ten sacks of iron ore to king Fenn Beg Corm. We soon learned that the Hillmen had been defeated in the north of Skye, whose clans rebelled and launched an attack on the weakened Hillmen as soon as the so-called queen Slighan diverted more men to Dun Torrin. The Hillmen reached peace with the northern clans also, though Slighan still retained most of Skye. Fenn Beg Corm announced another feast, and this one in the honour of the Cailleach, and at the behest of the Hillmen.
I could never enjoy that, Luceo. I just brooded, ate little, and resented Fenn Beg Corm. I resented that he had my oath. I resented that he lusted for Myrnna. I resented that he made peace with the Hillmen. Now, what am I oathbound to? Shall we raid the northerners? Shall we make excursions into Rùm or Eigg and hump the sheep there? Shall we journey to Eire to war for the kings of Connacht or Ulster? Shall we sail west, to Kilda, or further west, where the druids say there is land with white bears and men who can’t drink milk? I said nothing. My men drank, gambled, and whored. Myrnna said nothing either, or we avoided each other’s eyes. Most of all, I resented eating in the name of the Cailleach, who gave me my gift or curse. I slept, or rather, just lay there in my tent, eyes raised to the whiteness of the full moon.
The next day, I decided to return home again to bury Bodvoc. The Dobunni lads, Marthelm, and Chaser formed the party, and I headed homeward.
CHAPTER XXIII
My farm looked so dark from where we stood. We walked toward it, through the puddles and slog of the trackway. It had been raining all night and our feet were caked in mud. There were fresh hoof tracks on the trackway; an Eponian patrol or hunting party. They could not have been Hillmen, since Hillmen hate horses, just like they hate iron, bronze, and druids.
The roofs of the house had been rethatched. The byre, where my cousins had died, had been demolished and a new one raised. There were cattle in the fields again, although not mine, since they were all yearlings, but they should have belonged to me if they grazed on my pasture.
The farm looked peopled, as did all the farms in the area. The smell of peat from the hearthfire rose from the house. There were men, women, and children all working. Women ground grain. Sheep, goats, and cattle were tended to in the fields. Hogs and ducks were fed. Dogs barked as we approached along the trackway. There were men knapping flint, and the chips and flakes of flint littered the entryway to my farm as we walked right onto it.
I had no fear of the Hillmen. We had peace, and I was here not to war but to bury my dead brother’s skull.
What stood on the path struck me. It struck me harder, harder than being Badb-stricken, fiercer than being Camulus-stricken, and more enchanting than being Osimus-stricken. There was a shining one on the pathway, the stone-lined path that led to the entrance of my house. I said nothing because I could find no words, no thoughts, and only a prayer to whatever god listened to whisk me away from this evil.
‘Brenn, is that you?’ the shining one asked. He was shirtless, tall, with dyed-black hair, a budding moustache, brown-striped, green trousers – which I was told were the colours of Slighan – and an iron sword at his side in a scabbard. The shining ones were permitted to use iron, while the Hillmen shun iron, hate iron, spite iron. Now this shining one, iron-armed, spoke to me, and I felt enthralled by his voice.
‘You’re alive,’ he said. ‘Really?’
