Chapter Twenty-six The King of the North
Chapter Twenty-six
The King of the North
Dundurn held a great feast to welcome Bridei and his men back.
The tables lining the fire pit inside the broch groaned under the weight of the spread—as women carried out never-ending platters of roast fowl, pork stuffed with walnuts and apples, and venison pies, all accompanied by boiled turnip and carrot mashed with butter, and huge loaves of bread.
Bridei sat at the center of the table upon the platform above the hearth, Heolstor flanking him to his right and Fearghus to his left, and watched as the last of the food was brought to the table. Then he rose to his feet and held a great drinking horn, filled to the brim with mead, aloft.
“Dun Nechtáin was a turning point for our people.” Bridei’s voice echoed across the cavernous space, quietening the hum of excitement within. “The day we reclaimed the north.”
Cries of approval boomed off the smoke-blackened beams overhead.
“No longer will the Angles march on our lands.” Bridei’s skin prickled as he said the words. “No longer will they take gold from our villages and demand we kneel before them. From now on we are free.”
Fearghus lurched to his feet then, face florid for he was already well into his cups. “From this day forth Bridei mac Beli kneels to no man. All hail the King of the North!”
“The King of the North!”
Bridei listened to their cries and witnessed the adoration on their faces, the fierce pride glittering in their eyes.
Watching them, his people, the exhaustion sloughed off him and he realized that he had been born to rule.
It was not an easy mantle to bear at times, and often the weight of responsibility could isolate a man—as it had his father—but at that moment Bridei had never been more proud of who he was and how far he had come.
He raised the drinking horn to his lips and took a deep draft.
Applause thundered through the broch, as all hailed their king.
Bridei sat down, signaling that the feast could begin, and the feasters fell upon the rich spread before them. He helped himself to a slice of roast pork, his gaze shifting to the stairwell leading upstairs.
A moment later, Heolstor spoke from beside him. “Is Hea not joining us?”
Heolstor never missed a thing. The warrior had seen the direction of Bridei’s gaze and was now watching him.
Bridei scowled at him and shrugged. “You can’t blame her. We’re celebrating our victory—the defeat of Ecgfrith and his fyrd—it’s best she remains upstairs.”
“She’s a striking lass,” Ciara commented, brushing a lock of dark hair out of her sea-green eyes. She sat snuggled up next to her husband, while Heolstor slung a protective arm around her shoulders. “I can see why you’re smitten.”
Bridei gritted his teeth. After his conversation with Hea earlier, which had not gone the way he had envisaged, he did not want to speak about her. “You shouldn’t listen to your man,” he growled. “He’s a teller of tall tales.”
“Not this time,” Heolstor replied before taking a bite of venison pie.
Bridei bit back a sharp retort, knowing that it would merely encourage the pair of them, and focused on the pork. It was succulent, but as he ate, Bridei barely noticed its taste.
All he could think about was Hea.
Now that the excitement of speeches and toasting was over, he was starting to feel deflated.
She had not reacted as he had expected. Contrary to her accusation, he had not thought she would throw herself into his arms, yet her coldness surprised him.
That was not the Hea he remembered—not the lusty maid who had turned his head in Bebbanburg.
He had been attracted to the wildness in her, but these days, she took great pains to tame that side of her character, almost as if it scared her.
Was she bitter over his treatment of her?
Or perhaps it was less personal? Since she had been loyal to Ecgfrith, she was likely still coming to terms with Northumbria’s defeat.
I handled that badly, he told himself, thinking of their conversation earlier. He had used the attraction between them as a lure, thinking she would not resist him. He had not told her what was in his heart. He had not told her he had missed her.
These thoughts were souring his mood, and so Bridei pushed them aside and held up his cup for Una to fill.
The servant smiled at him, and did as bid, although her eyes were cool.
The playful, coy invitation he had once seen there was gone.
No doubt she had seen Hea go up to his quarters and remain there.
“Welcome home, Lord Bridei,” she said demurely, ducking her head.
Perched above the revelry upon a nest of furs, Hea tried not to weep.
This whole situation was a mess; one she did not see a way out of. The boom of drunken voices and the rise and fall of singing and music made her flinch, causing her breathing to constrict. She was just moments away from letting panic completely seize her.
Calm yourself. She dug her fingers into the furs and gripped tightly, taking long deep breaths. This isn’t a death sentence.
It was not, but it still felt as if her life were over.
Bebbanburg was lost to her; she would never return to that little hovel with its sheltered garden of flowers and herbs.
Someone else would claim it, would clear out her stock of dried herbs, tinctures, and potions.
It would be as if she had never lived there.
Hea’s vision blurred, and she felt a hot tear trickle down her cheek. She had not wept since Northumbria’s defeat, not properly. Even on the journey here, she had been clinging to some fool’s hope that Bridei would decide to send her home.
Home. Besides a few loyal friends like Fritha, there would be no one who would miss her. Lewren had been an only child and had lost her parents early; there were no aunts and uncles, no cousins.
Never had Hea felt so alone.
Laughter reached her once more, echoing up from the vast circular hall below.
She could hear the thumping of cups on the tables as the revelers hooted and cheered.
Hea ignored their levity, instead lying down upon the furs and curling up.
She looked out across the space she would now share with Bridei, past the hearth which was not lit for it was a warm evening, to the pile of furs on the opposite side of the chamber.
She had placed her own bed as far as possible from his, but it was a useless tactic for she would not be able to escape him.
She lay there a while, lost in the fog of her own misery, the sounds of the feasting and celebrating below fading as she mulled over the series of decisions and acts that had led to this moment.
Was there anything she could have done to prevent it? She was not sure there was … it was easy to be wise in hindsight.
Stop this brooding, she thought finally. This is not the life you’d have chosen, but Bridei has given you some freedom at least.
That was true—she would be able to go back to growing herbs and making healing balms and potions. Given time, she could find meaning in this new existence.
It was late when Bridei retired for the night.
He walked, feline silent, across the skin-covered floor and crossed to his furs.
Still awake, for her own thoughts would not let her rest, Hea watched him out of half-closed eyes.
He had his back to her and began to undress.
Her breathing caught when she realized that, like most folk, he would be sleeping naked.
Hea’s breathing quickened. She knew she should close her eyes, feign sleep, but she found she could not look away.
Fortunately, he had his back to her. She watched him strip off his leather vest and let it fall carelessly to the floor, then he began to unlace his breeches.
She watched them slide to the floor before he kicked them off …
and for a few moments, she admired his long, muscular legs; tight buttocks; narrow hips and waist; and strong, broad back.
And then he turned around.
“Good evening, Hea.”
Bridei was smiling as he met her gaze. Heat flushed through her as she realized he had known she was awake the whole time. He had put on a show for her benefit.
“Good evening,” she muttered before rolling over so that she faced the wall, her back to him.
“Did the celebrations keep you awake?” She could hear the amusement in his voice and clenched her jaw.
“Not really,” she replied, doing her best to keep her tone cool.
“Were you waiting for me then?”
Hea ground her teeth. “No.”
A few long moments passed, and she heard him climb into the furs before he spoke once more.
“Having you here in Dundurn doesn’t seem real.
I never expected to see you again.” Hea did not reply, keeping her gaze fixed squarely upon the rough stone wall.
However, after another lengthy pause, he continued.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m not trying to hurt you, or humiliate you. ”
Hea flipped over and glared at him. Thankfully, Bridei had covered himself up with a fur, although she could still see far too much of his torso as he had propped himself up on one elbow and watched her. “If that’s the case, why keep me here?” she demanded. “Send me home.”
He held her gaze, the intensity of it making her catch her breath, before he shook his head. “This is your home now.”
Anxiety churned in the pit of Hea’s belly. “No, Bebbanburg is.”
Bridei gave her a wry smile. “You never fitted in there,” he replied. “You’re too wild. They regarded you with suspicion, as they did your mother. An Angle likes his woman meek and biddable. Pict men prefer a woman with fire.”
His words caused an odd sensation to feather across Hea’s skin; a prickle of excitement just under her ribs which she swiftly repressed. “You talk as if you know me,” she replied stiffly. “The reality is, you don’t.”
She watched a shadow flit across his gaze. “You’re right, we’re still strangers in many ways—but you also have made swift, hard judgments about me. What if I’m not the man you believe me to be?”
Hea lapsed into silence. His words made her uncomfortable. She preferred the man she had known in Bebbanburg: light-hearted, flirtatious, and passionate. This one, who looked at her with unnerving intensity, who asked her difficult questions, had the power to hurt her deeply.
She could fall in love with such a man.
“I’m a leader,” he said finally when she did not answer, “and that means I have to be ruthless. I’ve killed many men to reclaim my birthright, Pict as well as Angle, and I’d kill again to protect this kingdom. I’m proud and arrogant, I know that, but I’m not the lūtan you seem to think me.”
Hea wet her lips. “I don’t think you’re a lout.”
“Then why do you shrink back from me?”
She could not answer that—for to do so would mean revealing the truth about who she really was.
Who her father really was. It would mean revealing her deepest fears—and her shame and guilt at failing Ecgfrith so badly.
So instead, she gave him an easier answer.
“You can’t expect me to sit here smiling …
not after watching the Northumbrian fyrd fall, after watching their bodies burn.
Those memories will stay with me forever. ”
His mouth twisted. “It’s a wound … but wounds heal.”
“Perhaps … but some of us bear the scars forever.” With that, she turned over and faced the wall once more, signaling that their conversation had ended.