Lady Ilena (16 page)

One asks, “What happened to the other one?”

“You're rid of him, but here's a new one we picked up for you.”

Both guards stare at me for a moment, then turn back to
their game. An opening at the back of the room leads to a narrow passage in the cliff. A few feet in, a space has been closed off with a wall made of bones and mortar. I can see enough by the flickering torchlight to recognize human bones, and I shudder.

Our escorts pull open a door made of the same bone and mortar mix and shove us inside. After they leave with their torch, a glow from the guardroom shows through cracks in the door. The only sounds are the rattle of the game pieces and an occasional curse or laugh from one of the guards.

Arthur has slid to a sitting position on the floor, and I sit beside him. “What can we do?” I ask.

“I don't know,” he says.

“You're the Dragon Chief!” I say. “You must have some plan.”

He's silent for a moment, then says wearily, “I'm not a wizard, Ilena. I wish I were.”

I've tried to stop crying with no success and now the sobs come fast and hard. When I finally get some control over myself, I apologize. “I'm sorry, sir. I know you can't perform miracles. Losing Durant is more than I can bear.”

“He loved you so much,” Arthur says. “He was with us at Uxelodunum in the spring, before he left for Dun Alyn. All he could talk about was you.”

I start sobbing again.

He sighs. “I would have done anything to save him. Durant was my cousin and my closest friend. He has ridden at my sword side ever since we were old enough to go to battle.”

I've become accustomed to the dim light that creeps into the cell from the guardroom and can see Arthur leaning awkwardly against the wall. I realize that his arms are still bound, and that he looks terribly uncomfortable. “If you'd like, I'll try to untie you,” I say.

He twists so that I can reach his wrists. “That would be most welcome. I've been bound most of today.”

“How did you end up here?” I ask.

“They captured me not a half day's ride from my home; I had thought to have a bit of boar hunting before the muster to leave for Cameliard.” He sighs. “Alpin and Uisdean were with me. Gone now, both of them. An ambush—and probably the whole story about a great boar was part of it, though I'll never trace it back.”

I've managed to get one of the knots undone and move to a second one. “Was …” I don't even want to say his name for the pain it will bring, but I must know what happened to him. “… Durant here with you?”

“Aye.” He pauses. “The Walking Dead, they call them. Few know the herbs for that now, and fewer still will do that to a man. Andrina may be the last of her kind. He remembered some things, but wasn't sure about a lot.”

“If I had not cried out, he would be beside us now.”

“You gave him the greatest gift a warrior can have. I saw my old friend in the moment when he leaped on Faolan.”

“What gift?” I ask. “I caused his death!”

“You gave him life. The only life that matters to a warrior. The bards will sing of his brave attack on Faolan, and his son will hear stories of Durant as a hero. You and I will die as sacrifices before the battle tomorrow. Our heads will grieve our friends, but no one will sing of our brave deeds as we died.”

I release the second knot and pull the thongs from his wrists.

“Ahhh.” He moves away from me, and I can see his arms swinging slowly back and forth. “Now I can get some rest.”

“I don't know what help it will be to feel rested tomorrow.”

“No.” His laugh has a bitter edge. “It makes no difference, I'm sure. But still one always hopes. My war bands have certainly been searching for me. I've tried this door, but it's barred on the outside, and we're never without guards.”

“I don't suppose we could get off the fortress even if we got out of here,” I say.

“Well, no, probably not. But we are near the north entrance here, and it's not as busy as the south one. I'd try for sure.”

“Vorgel said you must be on Alcluith.”

“Vorgel? Vorgel is on the mainland?”

“She came through the Vale of Enfert four days ago on her way to mobilize the northern fortresses. She sent me here to gather information and bring it to a rendezvous at the Ford of Leven.”

“When will she be there?”

I think for a moment. The past few hours seem an eternity, though I know that I left Eogan only a short time ago. “Today sometime—it is surely past midnight—she and others will wait for me and my companion at the ford.”

“Your companion?”

“Eogan of Enfert. A lad who thought it good to pledge his loyalty to me.” I can hear the despair in my voice.

“We are chiefs, Ilena; leading people is our duty, just as dying with courage will be our duty tomorrow.”

There is a commotion in the guardroom. One of the guards demands, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I was told to bring wine to the guards. Do you want it?” It's Jon!

“Who told you? No one ever sent us wine before. A bit of ale, and watered already at that, but wine?”

“Leave it here,” the other guard says. “We deserve our share.”

“And if we're found tomorrow with a jar?” the first guard asks.

“I'll come back for it,” Jon says. “It's worth my life to lose one, empty or full.”

He must know I'm here!

“It's Jon,” I whisper to Arthur. “My old friend from Enfert. I saw him earlier as they brought me in. He and the men of Enfert were carried off as slaves over a month ago.”

“Perhaps there is hope,” Arthur says.

The two of us sit in silence, straining to hear what is happening in the guardroom.

The only sounds are the knucklebones clanking as they're shaken and an occasional gurgling of liquid from a narrow-necked jar. Finally even those cease, and I can hear snores.

I'm starting to doze off myself when light from a small torch gleams in the passage, and Jon stands outside the bone and mortar wall.

“Can you hold this door steady while I pull off the bars?” he asks. “I don't want to make too much noise, though I think those two will sleep till tomorrow with no trouble.” He settles the torch into a wall holder just across from the cell.

Arthur is ahead of me and braces the door in place while Jon lifts the two bars and places them on the floor of the passage. The men lift the door and prop it against the wall inside the cell.

Jon turns to Arthur. “You're the one they call the Dragon Chief?” he asks.

Arthur nods. “Aye, that's one thing I'm called.”

“I've come for Ilena. The others are waiting with a boat.” He looks at me. “He's to come too, I suppose?”

“Yes,” I say. “We need him; Britain needs him. Are all of you from Enfert here?”

“No,” he says. “Just Nol, Craig, and I. The others are at a place called Dun Lachan.”

I nod. “We thought so.”

“How did you know anything about it?”

“I've been at Enfert the past month.”

“You have? How are they?”

“Well,” I say. “Planting is done. Slave raiders came, but your mother, Kenna, and the others chased them away.”

I can see his amazed expression even in this dim light.

Arthur interrupts. “Are we getting out of here, Jon?”

“Yes, sir. We hope so.” Jon disappears into the guardroom and comes back with a bundle. “You'll need these. Too many people have seen you.” He tosses me a filthy rag that turns out to be a woman's tunic. “And here.” He adds another rag. “Cover your hair and part of your face with this.”

Arthur accepts the scraps of clothing that Jon gives him and begins pulling them on.

Jon swipes his hand through the thick layer of soot behind the torch and rubs it into Arthur's hair. “You still look like one from the South.” He reaches over to the bottom of the tunic I'm wearing and tears a strip off. “Try this.” He binds the rag around Arthur's head and down across one
eye. “That covers more of it. And stoop if you can. You're far too tall for a slave.”

Arthur grins. I think he enjoys following Jon's orders. “And just what is your plan, Jon of Enfert?”

“You'll each carry a jar. Keep it on the shoulder closest to the crowd and look down at your feet all the time. If anyone asks for wine, say you'll be back directly with fresh—that your jar is empty.”

“Do you have a way off this island?” Arthur asks.

“Two friends and I plan to take a boat at high tide. I've convinced them to take the two of you; they know Ilena, of course, and I said you were the Dragon Chief who might rid us of these Saxons if we could save you also.”

“Good plan. And the only one that might succeed. You've worked with the boats before?”

“A bit,” Jon says. “I hope we can row free of the tide on Clota and get into Leven.”

“You'll have to,” Arthur says. “East on Clota is all Saxon camps for as far as the tide goes.”

One guard is sprawled across the table, his head resting beside a pair of knucklebones; the other lies curled up on a pile of straw. We step over the man on the floor and inch carefully around the one at the table.

Jon carries the torch, and Arthur lifts the jar to his shoulder. Wine slushes inside as he positions it, and he tilts the jar mouth upward. When we get outside, Jon points to
another jar beside the door. “Ilena, carry that one. And both of you, listen well. We must separate; three together may attract notice. Can you find your way to the boats?”

“Straight down the path?” Arthur asks.

“Aye,” Jon says. “Keep going down, and you'll get there. The jars go into a shed just beside the building where the guards stay. The boat will be at the end of the shed, but we'll only wait a few minutes. It is dangerous, and we must leave as the tide comes in to get safely away.”

Arthur nods, and I heft the empty jar onto my shoulder. The three of us hurry along the path, and by the time I come out in front of the rectangular building, Jon is out of sight and Arthur is far ahead of me. I pause to look at the empty space in front of the bench and wonder where they've taken Durant's body—then I swallow hard and move on quickly.

The fires have died down to low mounds of glowing coals. Most people seem to have retreated into whatever shelter is provided on this crowded island, but here and there a small group lingers in the near-darkness. Occasional bundles on the ground mark folk who've fallen asleep outside.

I lose sight of Arthur's tall figure almost at once as I scurry along, close to the rock wall on my right, while keeping the jar on my left shoulder so that it hides my face.

No one stops me, but once I hear a man call, “Wine! Wine! Over here, woman!”

I do not hesitate, but slip into the deep shadows of the narrow descent with his curses following me. At the bottom
the few sentries on guard barely glance at me as I rush by and turn into the shed. I put the jar down among others like it and follow Jon's directions to turn to my right as I leave the little building. A boat much like the one I saw on the lake floats below a flat rock ledge.

Nol, village leader of Enfert, and Fiona's husband, Craig, are side by side on the center plank seat.

Jon's voice is muted but urgent. “Get in. We can't take Arthur.”

I've grasped the edge of the craft with one hand and am reaching for Jon's outstretched arm when I realize what he said. The boat is small, with only four seats. “He must get to the Ford of Leven,” I say.

“There's no room,” Jon says. “They couldn't get a larger boat.”

“Then I'll stay here and you'll take him. I'll be right back with him.”

“Ilena!”

I hesitate for only a moment. “No, Jon.” I turn and run into the shed, where I grab an empty jar and lift it to my shoulder.

As I pass the sentries, one looks up and calls, “Still drinking up there, are they?”

“Aye,” I say. “And in a hurry, too.”

As soon as I'm out of sight of the guards, I set the jar down and race into the narrow passage as fast as I can, praying that I don't stumble on an unseen obstacle.

Arthur is easy to find. A group of people surrounds him and a heavyset warrior.

Arthur speaks in a surly voice. “I'll bring wine, sir, if you but let me go for it. This jar is empty.”

“So you've said,” the other says. “But when we called you over here, there was wine in it, and you poured for two others and then spilled what should have been mine.”

“I'm sorry, sir. I did not see the piece of firewood that tripped me.” Arthur points to the rag around his face. “I've been wounded and lost an eye.”

“I wonder what an empty eye socket looks like.” Firelight reflects off the blade of a dirk. “I'll take that rag off and look.”

I pull some strands of hair out to fall around my cheeks, stoop to hide my face, and scream as loudly as I can, “So ‘ere you are, Barra, you bloody fool. Lookin' all over an’ you've been trouble enough already today.” I push my way into the circle and grab Arthur's arm. “You'll come back wi' me now, you will. And no arguing about it. What you're doing nattering with folk when the jars have to be put away, I don't know.” I pull him away from the man with the knife and drag him through the circle. A woman steps aside to let us pass, and others are chuckling at the display.

“And where's your jar, you worthless idiot?” I turn back to the circle to see if the man with the knife is following. He isn't; he stands openmouthed, watching us. “I'm sorry,” I say.

“ 'E's not right in the head sometimes and 'e forgets what 'e's supposed to be doing.”

Arthur has bent to pick up his jar, and I grab his arm again. “Come along. We're late ‘n’ there's work to do before we can sleep. Hustle now.”

We get to the narrow passage in a few quick steps, and once hidden from view in the darkness, I pause for a moment to be sure we weren't followed. The group we left seems to be enjoying a joke at the expense of the man with the knife.

“Well done, Ilena,” Arthur says. “I couldn't take on all of them, and I was out of ideas.”

“Everybody likes to watch someone get yelled at,” I say. “We have to move fast. Jon can't wait long for us.” I know better than to tell Arthur that I can't go too. There's no time for arguing.

We plunge down the passageway as fast as we can, stopping only for a moment at the bottom to retrieve my jar.