Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Nine months later
Garamaros trudged westward along the coastal path.
His right hand clutched a sturdy walking stick cleaved from an ash tree.
In his left, he held the lead rope for his pony, which pulled a wagon containing all he needed for his trek around the lands of the Durotriges selling his wares and gaining orders for elaborate jewelry and beads. Lurcher loped beside him.
Several days ago, Garamaros had departed Dun Limen, impelled by a message from Mai Dun that Alina had given birth to a daughter.
There had been some disappointment amongst the settlement that Alina’s baby was not a son to lead their tribe in the future.
“Ah well, we must hope for a boy next time,” Alina’s father had commented after he had made the birth announcement.
“Sons will make Arthmael happy with the alliance.”
Garamaros didn’t care whether the babe Alina had born was a son or daughter. He only cared that Alina and her infant lived. He had immediately packed up his wares for sale and his few personal possessions and set out for Mai Dun, leaving his father in charge of the workshop.
He had promised Alina that he would visit her, and now he was just a few miles away. The massive hill fort of Mai Dun loomed in the distance, its multiple earthen ramparts tall against the western sky. He joined a trundling line of merchants wending their way to the fort’s east entrance.
For Garamaros, these last months had been a tyranny of unending heartache sublimated only by constant work.
But out of that pain, he had created something new and special for Alina.
A talisman for her protection for as long as she wore it.
The golden bead had taken many attempts before Garamaros had achieved the perfection he sought. The golden orb was perfectly formed.
By late afternoon, he had trekked up the zigzagging pathway to the eastern gate and entered the settlement.
From there he led his pony and vehicle beyond the clustered roundhouses.
At the western end of the massive hilltop enclosure, he tethered and fed his pony, and set up a makeshift camp for his short stay.
Tomorrow he would attempt to contact Alina on the pretext of seeking commissions for jewelry from her or other members of the king’s family.
At first light the next day, Garamaros set out his wares in the marketplace. Surely the appearance of a craftsman with gold and silver wares would be reported to the king’s roundhouse and at least one of his womenfolk would visit his stall.
By mid-afternoon, Garamaros had sold a few trinkets to the locals and thought he would have to take a more direct approach to the king’s roundhouse. He had begun packing up his goods when a middle-aged woman dressed in the coarse cloth of a servant approached and asked his name.
“My lady bids you to show her your wares,” she said in response to his answer.
“I come now.” He finished packing the jewelry into his leather satchel and followed her to the central and largest roundhouse.
He stepped through the covered doorway and into the semi-darkness within.
His eyes adjusted to the hazy light, his heart in his mouth, fearful that when Alina saw him again he would see that she no longer loved him, no longer needed him.
His own love hadn’t died, and his longing to be with her, still made his heart ache.
At last he saw her.
His heart turned over in his chest.
She stood in front of a large loom, weaving not the green and yellow of Dun Limen, but her husband’s plaid of woad blue and yellow. His heart pounded in his chest. His eyes feasted on her, her lush figure still rounded by her recent pregnancy.
Alina turned, and her eyes widened. Their gazes met again for the first time after nine long months apart. Love lit her face, heightening her beauty. She glanced away, hiding the emotion that shone in her eyes, but not before he saw it and his blood heated in his veins with that one simple glance.
“Craftsman Garamaros, welcome.” Her words were devoid of emotion as they ought to be when greeting an underling. “Do you have wares for me to buy?” Alina asked.
Garamaros’ heart contracted. Now he doubted what he thought her had seen in her eyes. Did she still care for him? Or had she fallen in love with her husband? Or was it the love of a mother for her child that shone from within?
He cleared his throat of the lump lodged there. “I do. Let me show you.” Garamaros tugged his gaze from her face and knelt on one knee before her to unfold the jewelry-filled material on the floor and spread its contents over the plaid.
Alina scanned his offerings and selected an infant-sized circle of worked gold. She stepped back and waved the women around her forward to look at his wares.
His heart swelled with satisfaction at her choice.
It proved she was still attuned with his tastes.
He had created that armlet with her baby in mind.
He answered the serving women’s questions about his prices and accepted coins from them without paying close attention.
His whole body was awake to Alina’s presence, her every movement.
When the serving women had returned to their duties, he folded the remaining wares back into their protective cloth. He did so as slowly as possible, wanting to make his last few minutes in Alina’s presence last as long as possible.
When he had finished, she stepped up to him. “Come with me,” she whispered. “I want you to meet someone.”
He glanced down at her upturned face and glimpsed the torc he had given her nestled at the neckline of her tunic dress. Hope flared in his chest.
Garamaros scanned the room to see whether they were being watched, but the women had resumed their weaving. He followed Alina to the other side of the roundhouse. She stepped behind a screen of woven cloth and halted beside a raised wooden crib.
No one could see them. Alina raised her hand to touch his cheek, brushing her fingers gently over his freshly shaved skin. “My love. How I have missed you.” Her words, strained with heavy emotion, were a whispered balm for his tortured soul.
He turned his face and kissed the palm of her hand. “And I you, Alina. Every minute of every day.”
She smiled at him, but the love in her eyes was tinged with sadness.
Not trusting himself to resist the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her with all the longing he had endured these last months, he stepped back from her.
Alina dropped her hand and turned from him. She bent and lifted the infant from the crib…and placed her in his arms. “Her name is Sorcha.”
Disappointment stabbed at his heart. This rosy-cheeked baby should have been his offspring. “A beautiful name for a beautiful daughter,” he said, trying to inject enthusiasm into his voice.
“It means brightness and light. She is my bright sunshine after living in a dark place for months.”
Grief stabbed his chest with her mentioning of a dark place. “Has Arthmael been unkind to you?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper, careful not to be overheard.
Alina’s eyes widened. “No, no. He is patient and gentle, despite his appearance.”
At her words, the tension in his body seeped away. As usual, jealousy prickled because Arthmael occupied his place in Alina’s life, sharpening his ever-present yearning for her. “Then what was the cause?”
“The darkness came from missing you.”
Joy at her words and sadness that she had suffered warred within him. He fought to control his emotions and dipped his chin at the baby. “I’m glad she is a light for you.” Then he smiled wryly at her. “But she has little of your golden hair or her father’s bronze locks to warrant such a name.”
Alina’s eyes widened, and a frown formed on her brow. She leaned forward until her lips brushed his cheek. “Can you not see that her eyes are yours?” she whispered.
His heart swelled until it felt too big for his chest. By the gods! “She’s mine?” he mouthed.
“Of course.”
Never in the long months since they had parted had he imagined that Alina was carrying his child, would give birth to his daughter.
He stared down at the baby’s round face and raised her in his arms to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
“She’s beautiful. I’m overwhelmed with joy. I thank you for telling me.”
Alina rose onto her toes and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. “She is a part of you by which I can see and remember you, although we can never be together again. For that gift, I am thankful.”
The infant started to fret. Garamaros handed her back into Alina’s arms, where she immediately settled.
“I have something for you,” he said and drew out a pouch hung on a leather thong around his neck. “This.” He tipped a large golden-yellow bead into the palm of his hand. “To remember me by, as I cannot be with you. And to protect you.”
“You made this for me?” With wide eyes, Alina stared at the vivid glass bead in awe.
He nodded. “A new process with which I have been experimenting. A success, I believe.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes softened with love.
“I have gold wire to attach it to your torc. Allow me to fit it.”
Alina lay the baby in her crib, then took off her gold necklace and handed it to him.
Within moments he had threaded gold wire through the bead and attached it to Alina’s torc.
“I will think of you every time I feel it against my skin,” Alina said as she replaced the necklace around her neck.
“This is not just a simple keepsake, my love. I have imbued it with every incantation for protection and good luck that my druid mother taught me.”
Alina’s eyes widened. “Then I will be truly safeguarded by your gift. I thank you.”
“Your wellbeing and that of our daughter is everything to me. You can transfer the protection to our daughter when the time is right.”
Alina’s blue eyes glittered with unshed tears. “Promise me that I shall see you again. That this is not the last time.”