Chapter Eight
The Shadow of War
The king was waiting for Hea when she entered the alcove. She sensed his presence the moment she pushed back the hanging and stepped inside, her bare feet crunching on fresh rushes underfoot.
Ecgfrith sat near a small window upon a wooden chair that was draped in a thick wolf’s pelt.
The wooden shutters were open, letting in the pale afternoon light.
Beyond, the sky was colorless as the day grew chill.
The king did not look at Hea; instead, he gazed out the window, his expression introspective.
Hea clutched her small, leather drum to her breast and steadied her breathing. She had sprinted back here from home after retrieving the drum. “Apologies for the delay, milord,” she gasped. “I came as quickly as I could.”
Ecgfrith turned from the window and shrugged before favoring her with a smile. “Worry not, the delay gave me time to think.”
Hea smiled back, relieved that Bridei’s arrival had not completely soured Ecgfrith’s mood. However, she could see the king had been brooding and would be wanting answers. “Shall we begin?”
Ecgfrith nodded, and Hea made her way into the center of the alcove where a goatskin rug spread across the rushes.
There, she sank to the ground and folded her legs neatly under her.
The king rose from his chair and crossed to her, sinking down onto the rug opposite. It was a familiar ritual for them both.
Meeting her gaze, Ecgfrith smiled once more—this time the expression was warm and oddly boyish. “I value your counsel, Hea. I’m glad you’re here.”
His words caught her off guard. “It’s a privilege to serve you, sire.”
He waved her polite words away. “Aye—but I hope you enjoy putting your gift to good use as well.”
Hea dipped her head. “I do … and I’ll help you in any way I can.”
She meant it too, although truthfully she was not in the mood for divining today. Her nerves were on edge, her thoughts in tatters. They kept turning to the arrogant Pictish lord. Bridei would not let her be.
Hea inhaled deeply, bracing herself. She would need to push her own thoughts about Bridei far from her mind, if she was to enter a dream state and seek answers for the king. She met Ecgfrith’s steady hazel gaze. “What is it you wish to know, milord?”
His mouth twitched. “I remember Bridei mac Beli as little more than a cocksure upstart—yet now he returns to Bebbanburg like a conquering hero.”
“His presence here bothers you, milord?”
Ecgfrith screwed his face up. “I raised that boy as my own, yet I fear he now sees me as his enemy … I want to know why he has come, and what he’s plotting.”
Hea set her small drum between them and gathered her thoughts. In order to connect with the other side, she had to concentrate. The world she was about to enter did not like to be troubled by mortals. She would need to relax, to shut her mind off to all else.
“Give me your hand, sire.”
Ecgfrith obeyed, reaching out his right hand.
She took it, before placing her own hand upon his outstretched palm, her fingertips resting lightly upon his wrist. It was an intimate gesture, one that a lover or a mother might make.
Initially, sitting this close to him and touching the king had made Hea uncomfortable, yet these days she was accustomed to it.
As always, Ecgfrith’s hand was cool and strong, his fingers long and finely molded; the hand of an intelligent man.
The king sat watching her steadily. He could have an unnerving calmness about him at times.
Hea closed her eyes and focused on clearing her mind; she blocked out the sunlight flowing into the alcove, the chatter of voices in the hall beyond. Everything receded into the shadow. Suddenly there was nothing but this still, dark place. She stood upon the threshold between two worlds.
With her free hand, she began to beat the drum. She started slowly, tapping in time with Ecgfrith’s pulse, which she felt with her forefinger. Once again it was an intimate gesture between them. Yet doing so did not make Hea nervous.
Fortunately, the king had never shown any sexual interest in her.
Hea breathed deeply and slowly in time with the rhythmic beating of her drum.
She relaxed further and the world around her receded.
Suddenly there was nothing except for the dark, shimmering water of a great lake before her.
A moment later she was no longer staring down at it, but swimming deep under the surface—only to find that it was not a lake but a dark void.
She had entered the land of shadow where her ancestors dwelt.
Over the past year, Hea had often thought of going in search of her mother here, but Lewren had vehemently forbidden her from doing so, telling her that it was folly for a seer to go looking for dead relatives on the other side.
It was a misuse of their gift, her mother had told her, and that to do so would only end in madness.
Hea drifted, weightless, through the darkness, remembering her mother's warning that the other side did not welcome the living; and that those who dwelt here only barely tolerated the presence of folk like her.
Even so, Hea was glad to be here. She enjoyed the peace, and the darkness and solitude that cocooned her.
Around her, the shadows swirled and gathered.
She saw the outlines of figures—men and women—some of them still, others dancing and flitting in the shadows.
Out of the darkness, she heard a chorus of voices; a few whispering, while some were more strident. They knew she was here but did not seem to mind.
When she reached their midst, Hea halted and stretched out her hand. Silently, she called out to them, making her request on Ecgfrith’s behalf.
A heartbeat passed, and she felt the air shift around her.
Moments earlier it had been calm; the spirits had not been bothered by her presence.
But now she felt them stir. The voices changed; muttering and hissing now filled her ears.
Sometimes this happened when she delved deep and requested things on behalf of the king.
The spirit world rebelled against the arrogance of his requests. The living could not cheat death, and should not know what wyrd, fate, held in store. This time she felt the resistance keenly. Would Ecgfrith be satisfied with the answers she found here today?
Hea’s eyes snapped open.
A few feet away, the king was watching her, his gaze keen. “You were away for a while,” he noted. “I hope that bodes well?”
Hea blinked, her surroundings rushing back. It felt as if she had been gone for days rather than moments. Even though the alcove was dimly lit, her eyes smarted from the flickering candlelight and the last rays of sun that poured in from the open window.
“What did you discover?” the king pressed.
Hea closed her eyes, sorting through the fragments of detail she had learned while she had been on the other side. “They have a warning for you, milord,” she said finally.
Ecgfrith’s eyes widened. “Go on.”
Hea released his hand, breaking the connection between them. “They say the shadow of war hangs over the north.”
The king made a scoffing sound. “When hasn't it,” he replied. “What else do the spirits say?”
Hea held his gaze and fought a wry smile.
Ecgfrith did not really understand her gift of second sight.
Hea certainly could not control the messages she received when she ventured into the world of the dead.
“They say that a man must not underestimate his enemies,” she replied.
“Whether you instigate it or not, war is coming.”
Ecgfrith leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “From whom? The south? The north. From across the sea? Is it Bridei I have to look out for or someone else?”
Hea shook her head. “They only say you must be ready, sire, for the days of peace are coming to an end.”
Ecgfrith gave a huff of frustration. He then rose to his feet and brushed off his breeches. “Those spirits of yours … why must they always speak in riddles?”
Hea watched him. Ecgfrith wore a long tunic girded at the waist with a heavy belt that had a gilded buckle. Dressed simply, he was not a physically imposing man. However, he had a presence, and Hea could see how some women might find him attractive.
She climbed to her feet and picked up her drum. “The spirit world does not give away its secrets easily, milord,” she replied. “You should be grateful for what you have learned today—few leaders get such a warning.”
Ecgfrith’s gaze widened at her tone. Few women would dare challenge him thus; yet over the past few months, Hea had grown comfortable in his company.
After a few moments, he smiled. “You’re right, Hea.
I grow impatient, that's all. I would like to know into the hearts and minds of men like Bridei mac Beli. I want to know whether he is here to slide a knife between my ribs, or whether he has some other subtler plan.”
Hea answered with a smile of her own. “Then perhaps you need to speak plainly with him.”
A chill, sunless afternoon was sliding into a grey dusk when Hea walked back toward home.
Around her, the daily life of Bebbanburg was drawing to its usual conclusion.
The market before the low gate had packed up for the day and folk were returning to their homes.
The smell of cook fires drifted through the cool air, and she inhaled the aroma of roasting mutton and the sulfurous odor of overcooked cabbage and turnip.
Hea passed the mead hall. It was a long, low-slung, and windowless building with a thatched roof.
The hall crouched between a byre and an armory; it was the only part of the fortress that was busy at this time of day, for many of the men residing here—warriors, merchants, tradesmen, and farmers—came to the mead hall for company and conversation at the end of a long, hard day's work.
A group of leather-clad warriors waited outside the entrance to the hall.
They were Picts—their plaid cloaks and blue tattoos made them stand out amongst the other men inside the fort—although Bridei was not among them.
She felt the weight of the Picts’ stares, their curiosity, as they gazed upon her red hair.
One of them gave a low whistle as she passed, while his companions followed it up with laughter.
Hea did not dignify them with a response but kept walking, ignoring the catcalls of appreciation that followed her.
She had learned over the years that the best response to men like this was no response at all—it just seemed to encourage them.
Hea continued on, following the Dragon’s Back. She passed numerous timber dwellings and heard the clank of iron pots as women prepared supper, along with the chorus and rumble of children’s and men’s voices from within.
A sense of well-being flowed over Hea. She felt safe here within the high wooden palisade; as if the rest of the world could never intrude.
However, if her visions were true, the peace she had known since birth was rapidly drawing to a close.
The messages she had received from the spirit world had been jumbled and difficult to decipher, as usual, but the threat of war had been clear.
Her belly clenched at the thought that everything she knew and loved might be at risk. Invaders, whether from the north or the south, might attack her home.
Hea’s thoughts turned to Bridei then. Despite her warm memories of him, despite the fact that she had once worshipped him, she knew the Picts posed a very real threat to Northumbria. If the warnings from the other world were to be believed, Bridei mac Beli was a herald of dark tidings.
Turning right off the Dragon’s Back, Hea made her way through the tangle of alleys toward her home.
A sudden memory of that day years ago now, when Bridei had broken Rinan’s nose, intruded.
He had truly been her savior that day. Yet the man who had returned to Bebbanburg and now sought audience with Ecgfrith could very well turn out to be her enemy.