Chapter Thirty-one Mid-Summer Fire
Chapter Thirty-one
Mid-Summer Fire
“Do you miss Bebbanburg?”
Hea glanced across at where Ciara rode next to her. The question surprised her, but no more so than her answer. “I thought I would,” she replied with a wistful smile, “but as time goes on I find I don’t.”
The woman gave her a piercing look. “But don’t you have kin there?”
Hea shook her head—after their last intimate conversation, she was wary of being open with Ciara.
Even so, her friend had not teased her again.
“Not anymore.” She thought about how Bridei had told her she had never really fitted in there; at the time she had disagreed with him, but these days, she was not so sure.
“Folk never really accepted me,” she admitted after a pause.
“They found me … strange, unsettling. Those who follow Christ distrust women like me. The priest at Bebbanburg was doing a fine job of turning them against me before we set off on the campaign to the north.”
Ciara nodded, a wry smile curving her lips. “Heolstor told me of this God. He sounds dry and dour. I’m glad our ways are different.”
Hea held her gaze before smiling back. “So am I.”
The two women rode in the midst of a column headed toward the glen where the Mid-Summer Fire festivities awaited.
It was the same route that Hea and Bridei had taken a few days earlier, although when they reached the fork in the path through the woods, the travelers from Dundurn headed left, not right which would take them to The Falls of Culloch.
Everyone had come from Dundurn—even the slaves and servants, who traveled on foot at the back of the group. Hea listened to the chatter of excited conversation around her; it appeared the folk of Dundurn had been looking forward to this night for a while.
The carts, laden with boughs of wood, bumped along behind them, while up ahead Bridei and Heolstor rode side-by-side.
Hea watched them, laughing together over some shared joke.
Those two had always been close, ever since childhood.
She was glad Heolstor had followed Bridei here and made a new life for himself.
He and Ciara appeared a good match too; although their happiness together was sometimes difficult for Hea to watch as it reminded her of what was lacking in her own life.
It was cool inside the woodland, a respite from the day’s heat.
The shadows were growing long. The night arrived very late this far north, and dusk still felt some way off.
The light had turned golden, covering the world in a gilded veil.
It was a lovely afternoon, and surrounded by laughter and merriment, Hea should have felt light-hearted. Yet she did not.
Ever since her trip to the falls with Bridei, she had been on edge.
He had kept his distance over the past few days, which did not surprise her.
The incident at the falls had cast a shadow over them both.
Usually, he would chat to her in the evenings, as they lay on opposite sides of the hearth upstairs; but ever since that day, he had come to bed late and had said little.
Once again, she did not blame him and was grateful he seemed to finally understand.
The travelers from Dundurn reached the glen as the sun slid toward the western horizon, bringing another glorious summer’s day to a close.
Streaks of pink and gold stained the sky and the scent of pine filled the balmy air.
Hea had never known such a warm summer—day after day of cloudless blue skies.
Folk were saying that this year’s harvest would be the best in a decade.
Crowds of people had already gathered in the glen, clustering around a great pyre of branches. It seemed everyone had brought fuel for the fire from their own village. Laughter filled the glen as men dragged the carts from Dundurn and threw their branches upon the already huge pile waiting.
Hea’s gaze slid over the clearing, taking in the crowd.
Picts seemed to wear less clothing than the folk she had grown up amongst, and the warm weather meant that most of the men were shirtless, while many women wore little more than a leather band covering their breasts, Ciara included.
Hea was one of the few who were covered up, and she felt conspicuous.
Most of the children here ran naked around the clearing.
Glancing down at her breasts, snug in the tightly-laced leather bodice, Hea wondered if she would ever be bold enough to walk around so scantily dressed. In Bebbanburg, a woman would be spat at and stoned for dressing so—but here folk were different.
Life was different.
The glen was a sheltered spot, with a burn trickling through its lowest point. Velvet-green grass covered the gently sloping ground where revelers spread out plaid and furs to sit upon. Everyone had brought food and drink with them, which they laid out ready for the feast to follow.
Hea swung down from her pony, and led it over to the edge of the trees, with the other horses. Bridei had just finished unsaddling his stallion, and he caught her eye. “It’s the largest gathering in years,” he said with a grin. “It should be a good night.”
She found herself smiling back, for his enthusiasm was infectious.
After seeing to her pony, Hea followed Bridei through the crowd to where Ciara, Una, and the other women had laid out a spread ready for their king.
Men called out to Bridei as he passed, their gazes gleaming and grins on their faces.
Others barreled into him, crushing their king in a hug or slapping his back as he walked by.
Bridei greeted them all, with the easy familiarity of a man completely at ease among his people.
He is a good king, Hea reflected. His people love him.
The scene contrasted with the times she had seen Ecgfrith engage with the folk of Bebbanburg. Rarely had he ever walked among them, and despite that the Northumbrians adored their king, they had always been a little in awe of him. Ecgfrith had never mingled with common folk.
Hea clenched her jaw. Except for my mother.
Even now, nearly two months after his death, the bitterness she felt toward Ecgfrith had not dimmed.
She sometimes wondered if he would ever have told her the truth about her parentage, if the campaign had not lowered his defenses.
He had never done anything unless he stood to benefit.
Pushing thoughts of Ecgfrith aside, for they cast a shadow over this joyous evening, Hea followed Bridei to a great fur spread out over the grass and sat down upon the edge, a few feet away from him.
Heolstor and Ciara joined them. Bridei filled his cup with mead and rose to his feet, while around them the crowd of revelers went silent, their faces turning toward their king.
“Welcome all.” Bridei’s voice rang out over the glen. “Let us all celebrate the shortest night, our victory over Northumbria, and the bounty of this summer.” He raised his cup high. “To the Kingdom of Fortriu—may she last and prosper!”
Men and women rose to their feet and lifted their cups high. A roar went up amongst the glen, rising high into the sultry air.
Hea walked amongst the revelers, a cup of wine in hand.
The light had almost faded, and they were getting ready to light the bonfire.
A few feet away, two men were wrestling with shields while onlookers cheered them on.
The first man to push his opponent to the ground using his shield would win.
After the drinking and feasting, there had been a number of games to pass the time while everyone waited for night to fall.
On the far side of the glen, a line of men were showing off their skills at wielding a hand axe, while a crowd of giggling girls looked on.
Smiling as the two shield wrestlers grunted and cursed at each other, Hea turned and nearly walked into a man who had stepped up behind her.
“Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her cup to one side as wine sloshed over the brim. However, whatever else she was about to say stilled on her tongue when she realized whom she had nearly collided with.
Rinan looked down at her. Standing this close, he was intimidating, towering over her.
His work in the smith’s forge had bulked him out even more over the past month.
Even all these years later, she was still wary of him.
Apart from seeing him and Una together on that wall—she’d had no contact with him of late.
Tolarggan the smith kept his new slave busy.
Hea forced a polite smile. “Evening, Rinan.”
He held her gaze, and she waited for him to say something unpleasant, or to insult her as he had in the past. Yet he merely looked down at her, his expression serious. “Wes hāl, Hea,” he replied in their tongue.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, keeping her tone light and resisting the urge to step back from him.
His mouth quirked in a half-smile. “The mead’s not as good as home.”
Hea smiled back. That was the first joke she had ever heard Rinan make. An awkward silence stretched between them after he had spoken. The intensity of Rinan’s look was starting to put her on edge.
Hea stepped back. “The sloe wine is excellent though,” she replied keeping her tone light. “You should try some. Good eve, Rinan.”
She was about to move away when he stopped her. “Hea … wait.” She met his gaze once more and was surprised to see that his cheeks had reddened. “There’s something I need to say.” She went still, while he held her gaze. “I’m sorry for what I did, all those years ago.”
Hea stared at him. Was she hearing things? Was Rinan son of Broga actually apologizing? After a few moments, she nodded. “Thank you … although it’s all in the past now.”
“All the same, I wanted you to know it.”
She inclined her head, frowning. “Why?”
Rinan’s face twisted before he glanced right, at where a group of women were laughing and chatting together—Una among them.
The young woman looked like a wood-nymph this evening, dressed in a gauzy skirt with nothing but a wisp of leather covering her small, pert breasts.
Her long hair flowed over her bare shoulders.
“I’ve never been good with women,” he mumbled. “But I want to be.”
As he spoke, Una glanced across at them. She and Rinan’s gazes met, and Hea saw the girl’s tanned cheeks flush.
Watching them, Hea smiled. For a moment she forgot the emptiness in her own heart. After years of being rejected by every woman he wooed, Rinan had found love in the last place he expected it.
Like Bridei, she was not sure what Una saw in him exactly, for Rinan would never be an easy man to warm to, but Hea was pleased for him nonetheless. Did not everyone deserve at least one chance at happiness?
Night fell and the bonfire whooshed into life, golden flames licking into the darkness, and throwing up sparks like fireflies. Mead, ale, and wine flowed, and some revelers danced around the fire while others played music upon a lyre and a calf-skin drum.
Heolstor and Ciara were among the dancers, their faces flushed as they flew around the fire. The lovers stared at each other, their gazes bright. The attraction between those two was so strong it made the fine hair on the back of Hea’s arms prickle.
Hea was watching them, lost in her own thoughts, when Bridei approached her.
“Do you dance?”
She glanced across at him and winced. “Aye—but badly.”
He snorted. “I don’t believe that for a moment. I’d wager you dance like a Fair Folk maid.”
Hea laughed. “I’m afraid not.”
Their gazes met and her mirth faded. Bridei was looking at her quietly, a solemn look upon his handsome face. It was the first time he had looked at her this way since their trip to the falls, and she tensed.
Please … not again.
“Come away from the fire for a short while, Hea,” he murmured. “I would speak to you.”
Hea’s pulse quickened. She did not want to be alone with him. “Can’t we talk here?” she replied. “No one will hear us.”
He held her gaze for a heartbeat before shaking his head. “I wish to have some privacy … and your full attention.”