Chapter Thirteen Opposite Sides
Chapter Thirteen
Opposite Sides
Hea strode down the King’s Way, her skirts flapping around her legs and hampering her stride. She was eager to be gone from the Great Tower of Bebbanburg, to return to her home where she could lock herself away.
Where she could pretend the last day had never happened.
Her temples throbbed and she felt slightly ill—she could not believe what she had witnessed in the king’s hall: two stags roaring and posturing, neither willing to back down.
Ecgfrith and Bridei hated each other—that much was evident—but they were willing to draw others into their dispute.
Because of the stubbornness of both men, war would come to the north.
Their bull-headed behavior sickened her.
She had left the hall to see Bridei with his men in the stableyard, preparing their horses for departure.
The lilting sound of their voices as they called to each other in the Pict tongue had reminded her of how different Bridei’s world was.
She had brushed by a sinewy warrior, covered in blue swirls—the same color as his keen eyes which had fixed upon her.
Next to him, a heavy-set man with long dark braided hair had also glanced in her direction; he wore a voluminous blue and grey plaid cloak that reminded her of a winter’s sky.
Finding both men intimidating, Hea had virtually run through their midst, deliberately keeping her head down lest their leader should look her way. Bridei called out to her, but she had pretended not to hear.
She did not want to speak to him—she only wanted to be alone.
“Hea!”
She stiffened, slowing her stride as she inwardly cursed him. The man had followed her. Clenching her jaw, Hea turned, steeling herself to face him.
Bridei had stopped close behind her. She raised her chin, meeting his gaze, and felt her breath rush out of her. He still affected her as strongly as he had the night before. Her breathing grew shallow, and her heart started to pound against her rib cage.
“I called out to you before,” he said, unsmiling. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“I heard you,” she replied, folding her arms across her breasts.
“Why didn’t you stop?”
She held his gaze. “You know why.”
“No,” he stepped closer to her, ignoring the crowds of townsfolk that passed by on the busy thoroughfare. “I don’t.”
Once again he was being deliberately obtuse, forcing her to speak plainly with him.
Hea gritted her teeth. “You are a fool, Bridei mac Beli.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
She glared at him. “Is this a game to you? Do you enjoy playing with people’s lives?”
“It’s no game,” he replied, not seeming remotely offended by her sharpness. “It’s my right to demand my lands back.”
“But you are going to launch this land into war.”
Bridei shrugged. “War is a way of life, Hea. Peace is only ever fleeting. Borders constantly shift. Kings rise and fall. Although you’d like to believe it, Ecgfrith does not rule the world.”
Hea stared up at him. His arrogance took her breath away. She felt mortified at how easily she had succumbed to him the night before. She had needed little encouragement to throw herself into his arms, and to give herself to him.
I should have realized that he came to Bebbanburg to warmonger, she berated herself. I should have turfed him out of my home before he tried to kiss me.
If she had not been so blinded by lust, she would have.
“You’re not the man I remember,” she said finally. “To think mōder and I used to welcome you into our home. I wish you had never come back here.”
Bridei frowned. “You don’t mean that. I know how pleased you were to see me.” His brow smoothed as he gave her a sultry look. “You showed me how much last night.”
Hea went rigid. She had been waiting for this—she had known he would throw her poor judgment in her face. “Last night was a mistake.”
That wiped the look of supreme male confidence off his face. “No, it wasn’t—don’t lie to me, Hea.”
“I’m not lying. Last night I made an error of judgment.”
Bridei huffed. “It’s too late now for regrets.” He held her gaze as he lowered his head slightly toward her. “My offer still stands. Why don’t you come with me? You would like the north. It would suit your character.”
Hea’s heart started to pound. The urge to laugh hysterically rose within her. He still did not understand. She realized he was never going to.
Hea took a few hasty steps back from him. “I’m not going anywhere.” She turned then and fled down the King’s Way.
This time, he did not follow her.
Bridei watched as Hea hurried out of sight. His first instinct had been to go after her. However, he quickly mastered that impulse.
The woman had grossly insulted him.
Hea disappeared, and Bridei let out a string of curses under his breath.
He did not have time for this. His men were nearly ready to move out.
Hea was a distraction he did not need. He had acted on impulse the night before, giving into his attraction for her, but he had regretted it the moment his eyes had opened that morning.
Last night had been unexpected … he had never lost himself like that with a woman. Time had stood still for the night; the world had shrunk to the two of them. The taste of her, the feel of her skin, the softness of her hair, still lingered even in daylight.
Even so, when he had awoken by her side that morning, the enchantment that had ensnared him fell away.
He was aware that he had lingered too long, that he should not have been there in the first place.
Her offers of food only added fuel to the panic kindling within him—he had virtually run from her home.
He had not come to Bebbanburg for this—Hea was distracting him from his true purpose.
He turned on his heel and strode up the incline toward the high gate. Heolstor was waiting for him in front of the stables, his face stony. “Where have you been?”
Bridei shook his head, avoiding his friend’s eye. “It doesn’t matter.”
Heolstor’s gaze burned into him. “You should have let her be.”
Bridei’s head snapped up, and he frowned. “If you knew where I went, why did you ask?”
“I wanted to see what you’d say.”
Bridei snorted. “It’s none of your business.”
“I’ve always liked Hea,” Heolstor replied. “She deserves better.”
Bridei stared at him, his gaze narrowing. He had not spoken of yesterday eve to his friend, yet Heolstor had guessed where he had spent the night—and after the words he had just exchanged with Hea, he had no desire to talk about it.
Wordlessly, he pushed past Heolstor and entered the stables to fetch his horse.
His bay stallion awaited him, pawing restlessly at the straw in his stall.
Croí Cróga—Braveheart—was a magnificent beast. The grey mare that Bridei had left Bebbanburg on all those years earlier, Léoma, was still alive, but he had gifted her to the wife of one of his warriors.
These days, he rode a horse more befitting his role.
Bridei ground his jaw as he saddled Croí Cróga.
For the first time since riding south, he regretted this journey.
In truth, he had not expected Ecgfrith to hand him over power and had eagerly anticipated meeting his nemesis on the battlefield.
But this visit had left him with a sour taste in his mouth.
Bridei tightened the horse’s girth, nudging the beast in the belly with his knee as the stallion tried holding his breath, before finishing the task.
He led the horse from the stables to find his men amassed in the yard beyond, all mounted and ready to depart.
The men were restless, their hands gripping the pommels of their swords and fighting knives, almost as if they expected Ecgfrith’s men to surround them.
They were right to worry—the delay here could cost all of them dearly. They had to make haste before the Northumbrian king turned on them.
Bridei swung up onto the saddle and urged Croí Cróga forward, leading the way out of the yard.
They passed under the stone arch of the high gate, the tall shadow of the Great Tower at their backs.
Heolstor rode forward, drawing level with Bridei and the two of them led the company down the King’s Way.
Crowds of local folk had gathered by the roadside to watch them leave.
News of the discussions between Bridei and Ecgfrith had clearly reached them, for their gazes were not friendly.
An elderly woman glared up at Bridei, hate in her eyes, mumbling curses under her breath.
Next to her, a blond lad spat on the ground as the Pict band passed.
However, none were bold enough to shout insults or hurl stones. The heavily armed, grim-faced warriors warned them against such rash acts.
Despite himself, Bridei scanned the crowd for Hea amongst the sea of faces. He did not find her and was irritated to realize this bothered him.
Forget her.
He and Heolstor led the way across the market square and through the low gate.
He urged Croí Cróga into a trot down the incline beyond.
A stiff breeze, laced with the salty tang of the sea, whipped Bridei’s hair in his eyes.
It was a bright autumn day, with silvery light.
Soon the bitter season would be upon them, but for a short while yet, the sun still had some warmth.
The moment Bridei rode beyond the walls of Bebbanburg, he felt a great weight lift from his shoulders. His return to this place had bothered him more than he had realized.
Pushing aside lingering thoughts of Hea, for there was little point dwelling on a woman he would likely never see again, Bridei shifted his focus to the future. He would return home to Dundurn and gather his army to him.
Excitement knotted in the pit of Bridei’s belly. Soon he would bend the knee to no man.
Soon he would be King of the North.
Hea stood atop the wooden palisade, next to the southwest guard tower, and watched the band of Picts ride away. The wind made her eyes tear, but she paid it no mind. Instead, her gaze remained riveted on the company of horsemen below.
They had reached the bottom of the causeway and now skirted the base of the rocky outcrop on which the fort stood, heading toward the road that would take them north.
Watching them, Hea felt oddly hollow, almost as if the brisk wind blew through her. In just two short days Bridei mac Beli had re-entered her life like a tempest, and torn it apart.
It made her realize that for all her outward confidence, inside she was still that girl he had left behind all those years ago. Lost, lonely, and desperate for love.
Tears stung her eyes, but she angrily blinked them away. You’re a dolt, Heahburh, she chastised herself. That was what her mother would say if she were alive to witness this sorry scene.
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the view for a moment as she struggled to hold back the tears welling within her.
Memories of the night before assailed her.
She had never known such pleasure, such abandon, existed.
Bridei had been a skillful lover; she had been with no other, but she had the wits to realize that.
He knew exactly where to touch her, how to kiss her, to make her lose control.
Despite everything, a fire in the pit of her belly kindled as she remembered how he had felt deep inside her.
For a brief period, she had felt ridiculously happy, but her joy had been as fragile as an eggshell—crushed underfoot when he rushed off as soon as he awoke.
Hea opened her eyes, her gaze tracking the Pict band while they turned north. She could see Bridei out front, his dark hair flying in the wind.
Her chest constricted as a sudden thought struck her. What if I’m with child?
She had been so consumed with lust the night before, she had not given the consequences of their coupling a second thought. However, if she gave birth to a dark-haired whelp nine moons from now, everyone, including the king, would know who had sired it.
She would be cast out of Bebbanburg.
Bridei had asked her to come with him, but the offer had been so flippantly made she could not believe it to be genuine. He had known she would refuse him. A man like Bridei would not want to be encumbered by a woman he had only spent a night with.
Instead, he was her people’s enemy.
War is a way of life, Hea. The brash confidence in those words had made her want to knee him in the cods.
He cared not that the folk here had lived in peace for the last few decades—that wives and children would soon see their menfolk depart for battle, some never to return.
What would become of Bebbanburg if war came?
Hea could not bear for that to happen. Somehow she had to steer Ecgfrith away from conflict with the Picts. Her role as his seer gave her some standing in the fort—he would not cast aside her counsel lightly.
Tearing her gaze from the scene below, Hea turned and returned to the ladder that would take her back down off the walls.