Lady Ilena Read online

  Gillis joins me one afternoon as I sit on the low wall that rims the seaside rampart, trying to take comfort from the calm blues that stretch to the horizon. I've become so intent on the rhythm of the waves marching toward me and crashing against the rocks below that I don't hear his footsteps until he is almost beside me.

  He sits down a short distance away and looks out on the sea also. There is the faint sound of metal striking metal from the blacksmith's building, and Machonna keeps up a low howl below us. Gillis says, “You have come up here every afternoon all spring.”

  “Aye,” I say.

  “The scouts returned this afternoon,” he says. “Spusscio and I sent them out several days ago to search for any sign of Durant.”

  I'm surprised. “I didn't know that.”

  “We hoped to have good news for you.”

  I brace myself. It is clear from his expression that there is no good news.

  “They ranged beyond Dun Dreug and south on the western trail; that would have been his route from Uxelodunum.”

  “He might have come through Cameliard if Arthur had business there.”

  He shakes his head. “He stayed with a farmer a day's ride from Dun Dreug.”

  “When?”

  “It was the waning half moon. Probably fifteen nights ago.”

  “And so he should be here.” The fear swells inside me until I think I can't contain it. I glance down at the waves below and wonder how it would feel to be washed away—if that would end the pain.

  “He did not arrive at Dun Dreug. The scouts inquired north along the trail also, but no one had seen him.”

  “Where does that trail to the north lead?”

  “Dun Lachan—Andrina, cousin to Faolan on his father's side, is chief there. It is her sister, Camilla, who married a Saxon and rules Alcluith to the south.”

  I remember Moren's distress when he heard about Alcluith: “One of our most important fortresses! How could a British family allow their daughter to marry a Saxon?” He grumbled for days. I realize now what a sacrifice it was for him to remain in hiding in the Vale of Enfert when danger threatened Britain.

  But my concern is for Durant. “Would Arthur have sent Durant to Dun Lachan?”

  “It's not likely. Dun Lachan was the first of the far northern fortresses to invite Saxons into an alliance, and it is still one of the strongest. Saxon warriors quarter there to assist Andrina's war bands, and Saxon families have settled on the outskirts of Dun Lachan's territory. It would be far too dangerous for anyone from Arthur's table to come into the area.”

  “Durant is used to danger; traveling to far places alone is his custom.”

  “Yes, that's true.” Gillis does not sound convinced.

  “Perhaps he has business somewhere we haven't thought of, and he will come here when it is finished.” I do not believe this even as I say it.

  Gillis's stern expression has softened a little, and I think I see sympathy. “Let's go down now; Machonna is impatient.”

  I try to smile, but it is a weak effort.

  Three days before Beltaine, wood and grasses are piled high in readiness for the fires that will burn to purify our land and our livestock, and I lead a hunting party to secure game for the feast. We return in late afternoon and are tending to our horses in the stables when a messenger arrives. He calls out the traditional request for entering a hostile fortress.

  “I bring word from Dun Struan. May I enter with a promise of safety?”

  I reach the gate before Belert and Spusscio, who are hurrying out of the family quarters, and give the proper response. “A messenger need fear no harm at Dun Alyn. I am Ilena, chief of this fortress, and I guarantee your safety inside these walls.”

  I remember this young man from Faolan's visit. He dismounts and looks around uneasily at the sentries and the gathering crowd as though fearful of attack. At last he faces me and announces, “I am Gerden of Faolan's house guard.”

  Belert has come up beside me. “You need not fear treachery at Dun Alyn. We will hear you speak after you have eaten and refreshed yourself, and you will leave tomorrow morning as you have come.”

  “Unlike the custom in some places,” Spusscio mutters.

  The Great Hall fills rapidly as everyone crowds in to hear the message. It is clear from the young man's request for a guarantee of safety that it will be a challenge.

  When Gerden has eaten a trencher of stew, he rises from the bench where he was sitting and comes to stand before Belert and me. He has calmed himself, and he speaks now in a steady voice.

  “Will the chiefs of Dun Alyn hear what Faolan has charged me to say?”

  Belert nods.

  “Faolan reminds you that you insulted him in years past when he requested Miquain in marriage.”

  There is a slight rustle in the hall as people shift on their seats and stretch to see around those in front of them. I console myself with the knowledge that my father is as opposed to my marriage to Faolan as he was to my sister's and try to relax.

  Gerden continues. “He believes that Dun Struan and Dun Alyn are natural allies, bound by the generations of those who lived before us. It is right that the families be united in marriage.”

  He pauses, and I can see that he is struggling to remember the exact words he has memorized. Belert sits, unmoving, with a face like stone; I try to copy him, but my mind churns with anxiety. The horrible story of Spusscio's brother, the memory of Faolan's attack in the stable, and my fear that Durant will never come all tumble around in my head.

  “Faolan will come six days following Beltaine to claim his wife.” Gerden takes another deep breath, glancing quickly at me and then back to Belert. “The lady Ilena is to be ready. If the gates of Dun Alyn open to us, we will join in a wedding feast. If they do not, we will …” He gulps. “We will enter Dun Alyn by whatever means we must and take Faolan's rightful bride.”

  A chill runs through my body and gathers like a lump of ice in my belly.

  Belert rises. His voice thunders across the Great Hall with each word separate and clear. “The lady Ilena does not desire marriage to Faolan. She is betrothed to Durant, chief of Hadel in the South and follower of Arthur. Tell Faolan that he comes against Dun Alyn at his peril.”

  Gerden nods and sighs. “I will carry that message.” He steps back and waits to be dismissed.

  “Go,” Belert says. “Cormec will show you to your quarters.” He looks out across the room. “Gerden of Dun Struan is our guest and has been promised safety in this fortress.”

  People along the aisle to the door shift their feet to clear a path as Gerden leaves. There are no threats or gestures, but the faces that turn to follow his progress are grim.

  Dinner is a solemn affair. Everyone in the fortress knows what Gerden's message was and what inevitable events our answer has put into action.

  After dinner, Gillis returns to the family quarters with Belert, Spusscio, and me. We gather around the table in Belert's chamber.

  Spusscio begins. “I've received word of a buildup of Saxon forces at Dun Lachan. If Andrina brings her own war band, along with the Saxon warriors who've gathered there, to assist Faolan, we'll have a fight on our hands.”

  “And I'm sure that she will,” Gillis says. “This isn't a dispute between two neighboring fortresses; it is part of the plan by Saxons, and the Britons who conspire with them, to defeat Arthur's alliance and take over all of Britain. There isn't time to get Arthur here unless you intend to wait inside Dun Alyn and let Dun Struan lay siege.”

  Belert shakes his head. “No. We'll not risk getting hemmed in. It would take days to get word to Arthur and as many more days for him to arrive—if he were free to come to us. If Faolan and Andrina want a fight, we'll take one to them at the Ford of Dee.”

  I nod. Battles are often fought at fords because rivers are the natural boundaries of our territories. The rivers themselves belong to no one, so they and their crossings are neutral ground.

  “I've four scouts ready to leave
at dawn for our friends' fortresses,” Spusscio says. “Two will go to Dun Dreug and two will ride northwest to Glein and Dun Selig. What word shall I send? And do you want the beacons tonight?”

  “Aye,” Belert says. “One beacon at each station to let our people know that trouble is coming; then, on the night after Beltaine, we'll light two at each place for an immediate muster. Tell Dreug, Glein, and Selig that Faolan has challenged us, and that we'll be at the Ford of Dee on the fourth night after Beltaine. They'll know they are needed. We'll meet tomorrow to decide who goes with us and who stays here.” He turns to me. “What about your students?”

  “They're ready to take their places in the war band,” I say. I hope that I've prepared them well enough.

  And that I am prepared myself.

  Chapter 5

  The day we set out for the Ford of Dee is overcast with a cold rain that stops and begins again time after time. The grounds of Dun Alyn are so crowded with people who've come inside for safety that it is difficult to get our horses and equipment through the clutter of pens, carts, and makeshift shelters.

  We leave a holding force. Our youngsters are skilled with slings, and many men and women who would find the trip to the Ford of Dee difficult are still vigorous enough to wield a spear or sword in defense of their home. Those who remain behind line the path from the entrance out to the trail to wish us all well and, in many cases, to grasp a loved one's hand one more time.

  I am amazed at the size of our troops. Cormec and Spusscio ride ahead with the scouts, and Belert, Gillis, and I follow. We are flanked by guards, and one holds Dun Alyn's banner high over our heads. The white goshawk on a black background flutters and snaps in the brisk wind.

  We have a horse troop of fifty behind us with at least two hundred spear carriers and slingers behind them. They are followed by supply wagons, donkeys laden with blacksmiths' wares and tools, and chariots to transport our wounded back to Dun Alyn.

  I am proud to see my students throughout the horse troops—all except Sorcha, who has cast her lot with Faolan.

  The terrain is rough with hills and small streams, but the trip goes smoothly. Rol prances happily, showing his pleasure at the outing by tossing his head and rolling his eyes at Belert's mare. We are in place a short distance south of the Dee well before twilight. We make our night fires at the edge of a woods; boys and girls who've come to tend the horses help us rub down and feed our animals while others hurry to gather buckets of water from a stream that rushes along on its journey to the Dee.

  I have just settled on a rock to eat the dried venison and bread that I carried in my pack when I hear a shout. “Someone comes. A troop, from the west.”

  I lay down my food and stand to draw my sword.

  The sentry is stationed high on a cliff overlooking the area. Her voice is drowned out by the noise of people readying their weapons.

  “Silence!” Belert shouts. “I can't hear her.”

  “A large troop. They fly a green pennant with brown on it. And another follows—a blue pennant.”

  Allies! I replace my sword. Dun Dreug's banner is a gold boar on a blue background, and Glein flies the brown bear on green.

  Perr of Dun Dreug is the first chief to join us. His voice is as hearty as I recall. “Ho! Belert. Spusscio. And the lovely lady Ilena!” He settles his sturdy frame on a log seat and sighs. “I'm tired of a saddle already. Getting old, I fear.”

  Belert laughs. “Not yet, my friend. It is good to see you.”

  Perr turns to me with a serious expression. “Have you heard anything about Durant?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing,” I say.

  Doldalf of Dun Selig and Lenora of Glein arrive together. I stand to greet them, and Lenora wraps me in an enthusiastic embrace. “I've thought of you all winter,” she says, “but especially since we heard about Durant.” She releases me and looks at Spusscio. “Still no news?”

  “Nothing,” he says.

  Doldalf grumbles, “There's too much activity on the trails this spring to suit me. Northerners going south, Saxons going north. No one's safe anymore.”

  Last fall when we needed help at Dun Alyn, these three friends along with Durant and Hoel rode to our assistance. It is good to see them again.

  We are in a large clearing near the stream, and our cheerful fire brightens the shadows as the sun drops below cliffs to the west. It could be a happy gathering of friends met to hunt if I did not know what lay ahead. By this time tomorrow we will be checking our weapons for the last time, preparing ourselves for battle.

  “When do you expect Faolan?” Perr asks.

  “We think that they will leave their fortress the day after tomorrow,” I say.

  “It is a short ride from Dun Struan to the ford, so we should see them by midmorning,” Spusscio says.

  We are not disturbed during the night, and when I awaken, people are cleaning and polishing their weapons and seeing to belt and harness fittings. The horses are corralled in a makeshift paddock well away from the large clear area between woods and riverbank.

  After breakfast Spusscio says, “I'm going up there to look over the area.” He nods toward a large hill in the distance. “Who wants to join me?”

  Gillis, Lenora, and I follow him, and by a little before noon, we are standing on an outcrop that gives a good view of the countryside.

  “That's Dun Struan,” Spusscio says. He points to the northeast where a cloud of smoke from cooking fires hovers above a fortress. We can see the walls and three huge earthen rings that surround them, but little else because we are so far away.

  The river Dee runs below us, churning between steep rocky banks to the west, slowing as it approaches the ford, and widening out as it moves toward the sea. Lenora stares at it for a long time.

  “Can it be forded anywhere downstream?” she asks.

  “No,” Spusscio says. “It is wide and the sands are treacherous. This is the lowest crossing, and there are no others for a great distance upstream because it flows swiftly between high banks for much of its length.”

  “Then we need not fear a surprise attack,” she says.

  “No,” he answers. “There is no other route for them but across that ford.”

  When we return to the campsite, I see that Belert has ordered drivers to move the wagons and chariots back along the trail and to space themselves out so that our warriors will have room to move to the rear if they need to.

  The mood around the campfires during dinner and throughout the evening is somber, though no one seems eager to sleep. At last, as the fires die down, and the moon rises above the treetops, I can stay awake no longer.

  “A good night to you all,” I say, and roll myself in my cloak with my feet toward the fire and my head pillowed on my war vest. I can hear the others around me following my example, and finally talking ceases throughout the camp area. I sleep fitfully, partly because of the hard ground beneath me—I've become too accustomed to my soft bed—but also because thoughts of tomorrow's battle stir me awake each time I drop into slumber.

  Will I be equal to the role of chief? I know what a warrior must do, and I know how to fight as well as any here. But will I be strong enough in the face of a large force against us? Can I hold my position at Belert's right hand?

  As a chief myself, I am charged with duties of leadership and example far beyond the other warriors. Since this is my first battle with the war band of Dun Alyn, my every move will be scrutinized, and the judgment passed on my qualifications will follow me for years.

  At last my thoughts fade so I can sleep, and I awaken as dawn is casting a pink glow against the clouds. I look toward the two watchmen stationed on the cliff and see them staring across the river. Belert and Spusscio stand on a small rise nearby, looking in the same direction. When I reach them, I see two horsemen on the north bank of Dee. They watch us for a time, then turn their horses back toward Dun Struan.

  “Scouts,” Spusscio says.

  “Aye,” Belert says, “their main
troop will be along soon.” He pulls his sword from its scabbard and raises the blade above his head. He turns slowly in a complete circle and moves back into the ranks of warriors, brandishing the sword in a silent and unmistakable signal to prepare for battle. The other chiefs, weapons high, move among their troops with the same message.

  I hurry back to my sleeping place to gather up my cloak and pack, then carry them into the woods out of the way. Those who wear the traditional long wool garment strip it off and toss it onto piles of others. Most wear leather trousers, but some do not have even that much clothing when the woolen cloak is gone. Lenora wears a tunic over her trousers, as do I, and both of us have thick leather vests for protection.

  Fear is building inside me, and I wish for a moment that I were back safely in the Vale of Enfert, where my only opponents were the wild boars and the sheaves of straw Moren hung for targets.

  A shout rings out from the cliff above us. Gillis stands with his arms raised and his head back. He begins an ancient plea to the gods of our ancestors, then looks down and points at me. People have pressed forward into the clearing to hear him, and now they begin to chant my name.

  “Lady Ilena, Lady Ilena.” It begins quietly from a few people, then builds until the surrounding forest seems to echo it.

  I know it is customary to honor a leader before going into battle, but Belert is here, and Doldalf and Perr and Lenora. I am the youngest chief, and this is my first battle. Surely I should not stand beside the Druid. Belert nods at me, and I can see that he is saying, “Go!”

  Lenora smiles and reaches out to take my arm. “Come, Ilena. You are chief of Dun Alyn. Your people want to see their leader.” She leads me through an aisle that opens in the crowd until we reach the trail to the cliff top. There she releases my arm and gives me a gentle push.

  I climb the steep path with the sound of my name roaring around me. “Ilena. Ilena. Ilena, Chief Ilena!”