Chapter Twenty #2
shapes move with him in the wind, keeping close to him, casting no
shadows. Leof, he thought, for the first time with no pain.
Theo—now I know how
the treasure of Fara can bring peace.
“Hear me!” he called. For a moment he wanted to laugh. Who was
he, to stand between armies and demand that they listen to him?
Then the breeze caught Gleipnir, and it tugged in his fist like a
living thing, a sea serpent coiling. He let it fly out like a
banner. The runic words burned into it seemed to swirl and dance
around him. The cord that binds the wolf…
“Hear me. I wield Gleipnir. No man will fight here today.” He
waited for the roar of derision, but none came. Sigurd was
frowning, listening to Fen for translation, and as for Broccus…
Once more Cai swallowed down laughter. He’d never seen such a face
before. One of Broc’s hounds could have spoken and astonished him
less. “I wield Gleipnir, and…I command you to look around you. Look
at the men gathered here—vikingr
and old Roman, Saxon farmers, and…” he patted
himself on the chest, then gestured at the looming rock of Fara,
“…and my kind too, the soldiers of Christ. Each convinced the land
belongs to them. At least these vikingr pirates know they’re
invaders. The rest of us have forgotten—we are too.”
A rumble
from the hillfort warriors. Cai turned to them—to Broc, meeting the
dark eyes that were so like his own. “Yes. The waves of change
break on this shore, over and over again. There never was such
thing as a pureblood Briton, and…” He paused. Maybe Danan’s draught
was working on him still. He seemed to stand on a brink. There
would be a time when conflicts like this one would devour a whole
nation. A world. “And there never will be, Broc. Not even
you.”
The
flickering visions faded. All that was left was the light, the sea
air, the vast sky above him owned only by the wind. “Look at this
land,” he said. “It’s huge. It’s empty—I can walk for days and not
meet another living soul.” Clover shifted, and he let her turn so
that he too could see the great wide spaces of his home. “There’s
room for every one of you here—for settlers, not raiders. Men who
will come to build houses and farms, sustain themselves by work,
not theft and plunder. No, Broc—listen. We too came here as
conquerors. Our Roman fathers tried to seize the land and…and they
found they could only become a part of it. At least—the only ones
left are men like you, who did, who stayed and had children
and…”
Cai jerked his head up. He had started to speak to Broccus
only, and the Vikings were waiting. “And now I tell you, men like
me—Christians, who say they serve the word of Christ but have gone
deaf to its meaning—are starting to put out the lights of learning
and freedom. I won’t let anyone—vikingr or Saxon, Roman or Celt—bring
down that darkness. Not while I have a breath in my
lungs.”
Gleipnir stopped its dance. It fluttered down and lay tamely
over Clover’s neck. If there had been any magic in
it, the power
was spent. And Cai was finished too. He sat quietly, letting Clover
shake her head and snort. Whatever would come next would
come.
“Caius!”
Cai turned. Fen was looking up
from low-voiced conference with Sigurd, and he was smiling. Cai
knew that smile. Good luck with this one, monk…
“Sigurd has something to
say to you. He says…” The grin widened. “He couldn’t care less
about learning and freedom. But he’ll take the land, if you’re
giving it away.”
Cai shook his head. His answering
smile rose up. “Not mine to give. If it’s anyone’s, it’s my
father’s. I’m sure he’ll be willing to step forwards now and deal
with Sigurd for it—by negotiation.” He shot a glance at Broc, who
was puce, his mouth hanging open. “Or they could fight. They’re
pretty well matched up, aren’t they—his farmers and your pirates.
They’d do a grand job of wiping each other out.”
Caius left the battleground. He
touched his heels to Clover’s sides and turned her head towards the
sea. Was it a battleground that lay behind him, or a chamber of
council, roofless and open to the light? For himself, he couldn’t
care anymore. He was done. He had all his work cut out to stay
aboard his rocking mount as she surged to a choppy gallop and took
him away.
Other hoofbeats, faster and lighter.
Cai cared about those. Still he didn’t look back. No plough horse
could make such a sound. He risked closing his eyes for a moment.
Instantly vertigo grabbed him and he opened them again, and it had
been enough—Fen was right there at his side. Eldra fell into
effortless pace, a swan beside a hard-swimming Addy
duck.
Fen put out a hand. “Where are we
going?”
“I don’t know. The dunes.
Just…away.”
“Yes. Good.”
“Not too fast. Clover can’t keep
up.” And nor
can I. Why is it so hard to breathe?
“You called your warhorse
Clover?”
“It was short notice. Just
ride.”
Off the coastal plain and into the
hills, where earth turned to sand beneath the turf, where marram
whipped freshly in the wind. Where salt and the manes of white
horses made the air crackle with life, sustaining Cai a little
longer—long enough to gallop after Fen deep into the maze of crests
and sandy troughs.
“Here,” he called, when his
hold on Clover’s reins began to slip. “Fen, stop here.”
Eldra came snorting to a halt. Fen
turned her neatly and brought her to stand beside Clover. “Is it
far enough?”
“Yes. It’ll have to
be.”
“Cai…” Fen took hold of his
shoulder once more. He looked into Cai’s face. Cai didn’t dare look
back. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Can you see them
from here—Sigurd and my father?”
“If I ride back up this
crest. Wait a moment. Yes.”
“Are they
fighting?”
“No. They’re still where we
left them. They’re…talking, I think, if you’ll believe
it.”
Cai chuckled. “Just barely. If you’re
here, though—who’s translating?”
“Does Broccus speak
Latin?”
“A little.”
“Well, Sigurd speaks a
little less, but maybe it’s enough. Your father seems to be drawing
something on the ground.”
“Partitioning his lands,
perhaps.”
“Does he really own
them?”
“Not an acre. But if that’s
what it takes…”
“Yes. Sigurd won’t ask to see his
deeds. Cai...” Fen leapt off Eldra. He came running down the dune
and took hold of Clover’s bridle. “Why are you so pale? You were
mending when I left, weren’t you?” He reached up. Cai began to
dismount. Fen would help him down, and then he would be fine. But
something went wrong between Clover’s broad back and the sand. The
noise of the sea had got inside his head. When he tried to tell Fen
about this—to lean down and find his embrace—his eyes filled with
salt water too, blinding him. And then the sun went
black.
My only grief is that I can’t
deceive you. Cai lay listening to the thud of a heart that was now so
much stronger than his own. He was curled up with Fen in the
sheltering arm of the dunes. The wind was growing chilly as the
dusk came down, but he could scarcely feel it. He had awoken
wrapped in a beautiful cloak, its soft red wool drawn closely all
round him. Fen had been holding it there, holding him. Briefly he
had tried to lie. But the damn cough had started, racking him, for
the first time bringing blood.
“Why is it
happening?”
“The wound’s healing badly,
I think.” Cai was calm now. His words no longer came in crimson
rags. His head was on Fen’s shoulder. “Binding up one of my
lungs.”
“What can I do? I will
bring you a physician.”
Cai smiled at the imperious tone.
“Knock one over the head and bring him to me hogtied?”
“If necessary.”
“It isn’t. I’ve had the
opinion of the best doctor for miles around. The only one, as it
happens. It’s all right, love. It doesn’t even bother me
now.”
“It doesn’t
hurt?”
“It did until
today.”
Fen took his face between his hands.
He brushed back Cai’s fringe, wiped a trace of blood from his lips
with the pad of his thumb. He was so lovely to Cai in the fading
light—his haughty features softened, the breeze blowing his hair to
kestrel’s-wing feathers across his brow. “But it will get
better?”
Cai couldn’t deceive him. He could
hold his peace, though. He buried his hands in the heavy, warm
hair, kissed the sculpted profile where the setting sun was limning
it in gold.
Fen shuddered deeply and moved to lie
over him, bearing his weight on his arms. “Tell me the truth,” he
growled. “I’ll take your silence for your answer
otherwise.”
“Don’t. Just touch me. I
have been hungry for you.”
“And I for you. I have
starved. Why did we do it?”
“We thought we had our
duty.”
“Yes. But I missed weeks of
you, months of…”
Months of whatever I have
left. Cai
captured Fen’s mouth before the words could come. “Never again,” he
whispered, between one fervid kiss and the next. “My only duty is
to you.”
“And mine to
you.”
Solstice to solstice, hand to
hand… Their
rough interchange called into Cai’s head the words of the vow, the
chant Danan had begun for them and then stopped when she caught
sight of their futures. She had been right—Fen hadn’t had a year
and a day to give, and now neither did Cai. And yet here they were.
He wrapped his arms round Fen’s shoulders, and something tugged at
his wrist, restricting him. “Fen, I’ve still got… Look.
Gleipnir.”
“Bury it. Chuck it in the
sea. It took me away from you.”
“And brought you back. Give
me your hand, love.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t
want…”
“No. To finish what Danan
started.”
Fen caught his breath. Carefully he
unwound the relic from around Cai’s arm. “The
handfasting?”
“Yes. I know the
words.”
“Then say them.” Fen
wrapped the ribbon tight round their joined wrists—awkward, and not
in the intricate pattern Danan had begun, but it was tight and hot
and it would do.
“It feels like using up the
last of the magic in it.”
“If it’s so, then you can
only use it once. Not like Danan’s ribbon—not just for a year and a
day.”
“I would never take your
freedom, Fen.”
“You are my freedom. Bind us. Bind the