Rescued by the Celtic Warrior (Roman Love ~ Pict Desire Series Book 1) (17 page)

Pia chuckled. “He was just making sure you understood the limits of his hospitality.”

“Nonetheless, he intimidated me. I’ve been perfectly happy to avoid him since you concocted his pain medication, especially while Taran’s been away.”

After Pia’s primping, Valeria shook off her nerves and gracefully descended the grand staircase in her plain beige gown. She felt a bit naked without an escort, but she could hardly expect anyone to tap on her door and offer an arm. Her misgivings melted away when Oisean stood upon her arrival and beckoned her to him. “Valeria, please take my nephew’s place beside me.”

All eyes followed her while she made her way to the far end of the great hall. He didn’t gawk at her with distrust as he’d done when she’d first arrived. Valeria wished Taran were there to witness the transformation. She hadn’t needed him to earn their respect after all—though she’d only cracked the surface.

The hum of the crowd resumed when Valeria sat, receiving a pleasant nod from Betha. Greum occupied the seat to Betha’s left—Drust’s place.

The king turned the ring on his finger. “Greum tells me ye’ve been working with young Manas.”

“Yes, my lord. He’s the only lad brave enough to show up for my lessons.”

“I hear he has a natural knack with a horse.”

“He’s a fast learner indeed.”

Oisean took a long drink from his tankard. “The boy spoke today?”

“Yes. I think he surprised us all.”

Oisean leaned forward. “Are ye a witch?”

Valeria sat back, her mouth agape. “Pardon me, sir, but what kind of question is that?”

“No one has been able to dredge a peep out of him for near three years. Morag claims ye must be a witch.”

“Oh my heavens. I believe that woman would be prejudiced against me if I started a fire with a flint. Greum was there. He can vouch for me.”

Greum chuckled. “I don’t think it was Valeria who made him speak. ʼTwas me. I was scolding her for riding outside the castle—told her I should take the lash to her when Manas bellowed at
me
.”

Valeria nodded. “He wanted to protect me. Who else has taken the time to teach the boy anything at all? I’m told he sat in the hall and stared most days.”

Oisean glanced at Betha. She covered her mouth and whispered something in his ear. He turned to Valeria and waved a hand in the air. “I didn’t think it were so. Morag runs a fine kitchen, but she’s a bit headstrong.”

Valeria nodded, holding her tongue. Though it would have been easy to blurt out her ill feelings for the old hag, she was certain it wouldn’t be received well. Greum winked and she mouthed, “thank you.”

“I have one more thing to discuss with ye,” Oisean said.

Valeria couldn’t withhold her next remark. “Pia is not a witch either.”

His eyebrows arched. “I beg to differ. That woman’s pain potion could not be from this world.”

“Mayhap not a Pict world, sire.”

He threw his head back with a rolling laugh. “ʼTis good to see ye haven’t lost yer sense of humor, lass.”

She lifted the ewer of mead and filled her cup. “It is welcome to see the king so easily amused. Tell me, what would you care to discuss?”

His laughter was quickly replaced by a frown. “A sentry arrived today with word from Rome. Valentinian has appointed a new Dux Britanniarum.”

Valeria’s stomach turned upside down. Rome? Her home—once. Her father had been replaced? She swallowed. “Oh?”

“They report his name is Theodosius. Have ye heard of him?”

Valeria nodded. “Yes. General Flavius Theodosius made a reputation for himself maintaining Roman interests in Hispania. I believe he hails from the province of Gallaecia.”

“And what would be the travel time from Hispania to Hadrian’s Wall?”

Valeria bit her bottom lip. “Three months at least. If he marches with an entire legion, it could be longer.”

“Do you think he’ll bring a whole legion of men?”

“I’m not trained in the workings of the military, sire, but a general is usually followed by his legion. If what you say is true and the Wall has fallen, I have no doubt he will arrive with a full contingent of skilled men.”

Oisean scratched his chin, stretching the circular blue tattoo on his cheek. “The Romans invaded our land. They rape our women and take our men, shackling them to their ships, just as they did with Taran and Greum. We will not live under their tyranny.” He slammed his fist on the table and Valeria nearly jumped to the rafters.

She took a deep breath, contemplating her response. “I once believed in the sovereignty of Rome. When I arrived on the frontier, with my own eyes I witnessed the injustices to which you refer. Here in Gododdin you are not subject to Roman rule as you would be if you were south of the Wall. Is that not enough?”

“And wait for their raiding parties to attack and pillage Dunpelder?”

Betha leaned forward. “The Picts have already driven them back from the Antonine Wall. We fear they will take until there is nothing left to give.”

“Exactly!” Oisean boomed. “The Romans tried to invade our lands, and they’ll do it again until we drive them out of Britannia.”

Valeria delicately bit into her bread.

“The sentry reported they’re calling it the Barbaric Conspiracy. Bloody right. I conspired with me enemies to drive them out and I’d do it again to ensure our freedom.”

Valeria raised her tankard. “I’ve perceived the Picts to be quite civilized. The term barbarian is misused and your people are misunderstood.”

The king’s eyes bore through her for a moment. Uneasy, she set down her mead and ran her hands over her hair to ensure she didn’t have a stray lock sticking out.

He picked up his dirk and stabbed it into a leg of pork. “Ye are observant.”

The hum of the crowd clipped to silence when the eerie sound of a Pictish carnyx trumpeted from the castle walls above. With a gasp, Valeria’s eyes shot to Oisean. Again the bronze carnyx sounded. Oisean jumped to his feet. “Battle stations!”

Benches scraped across the wooden floor. A Pictish sentry rushed in, sword in hand. “Sire.” He inhaled deeply to catch his breath. “ʼTis the Attacotti with a hundred men or more.”

“Light the fires and man the mangonel catapults. We’ll send the bastards to their graves this night.”

In seconds, the hall was awash in a flurry of activity. Swords ripped from their scabbards, helmets and shields were donned. Valeria stood and clutched her arms around her shoulders. Shouts and screams erupted from the mayhem while men and women both armed themselves.

Shoving his helmet over his head, Greum grabbed Valeria’s shoulders. “Ye must hide in yer chamber, m’lady. Runan could be coming for ye.”

She nodded.

“I’ll escort ye.”

“No. Man your station. I shall find Pia and Manas.”

Greum hesitated.

“Go. I’ll be fine.” She rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Fight well and live.”

“Bolt the door and open it for no one.”

In a flash, Greum raced out of the hall. Valeria headed to the kitchen, pushing through the mass of people. She fought against the flow. Shoulders and bodies bumped into her. A shove from the side sent her crashing into the table. Her gaze met with a leg of roast pork impaled by a dirk with a handle of bone. She reached for the knife, yanked it free and slipped it into her belt.

Oisean stood on the dais, roaring orders as the hall began to empty. The nightmare had begun. Dunpelder was under attack. Valeria wanted to retch. The Pict’s most powerful warriors were on a diplomatic tour of the countryside.

“Pia,” Valeria cried when she pushed into the kitchen.

The slave appeared from behind her. “There you are!”

Valeria’s gaze scanned the room. “Where’s Manas?”

The scene in the kitchen was in as much mayhem as the hall. Morag wore a Pictish helmet over her wimple, brandishing a sword, shouting orders. “Take yer arse up to the wall-walk and help the men arm the catapults.”

Through the mass of running bodies, Valeria caught a glimpse of a small body crouched beside the hearth. She pushed her way to the lad. “Manas, come with me.”

His wide eyes were full of fear as he hugged himself, paralyzed.

Valeria grasped his shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “I need you to protect me.” She prayed her words would pull him out of his trance.

The boy bobbed his head and stood. He grabbed the poker from the hearth.

“Come.”

Valeria grasped his hand and pushed back through the kitchen. Morag jumped into her path. “What are ye doing?”

“Greum told us to hide in the chamber.”

“With the boy?”

“Yes. He’ll be safer up there.”

Morag glared. She blocked the passage and grasped her sword at her side like a misshapen Amazon.

Valeria stepped within an inch her nose, eyes focused, unwavering. “Let us pass.”

With a harrumph, she yielded, yelling over Valeria’s shoulder. “Leda, move yer arse above stairs!”

Valeria clamored up the stairwell, following women with their children. She glanced over her shoulder. Some women were clad in armor, heading for the wall-walk, while others rushed for the safety of the upper chambers. She wondered why some women were allowed to take part in the battle, but this was no time to ask. She would be more than happy to man a catapult, but she had no training and her first priority was to protect Pia and Manas from harm.

Once inside, Valeria slid the bolt across the chamber door.

The ramming started.

Enemy voices rose above the booms. “Heave” followed a crashing thud. The hardwood gates to Dunpelder were three-foot thick, but they wouldn’t stand up to the ramming-rod forever.

“Archers. Fire!” The command came from the wall.

The springing twang of a catapult reverberated above with a resultant roar from beyond. The cry of battle intensified and Valeria looked at Pia through the haze of the chamber lit by a solitary candle. She pulled the long knife out of her belt. “We have this dirk and Manas brought the fire poker from the kitchen.”

The boy held up his weapon.

Pia pulled off her leather belt and snapped it straight between her hands. “This can strangle a man as sure as I am standing.”

“All right then. If the worst should come, we are armed.”

Valeria crouched on the straw mattress. Pia and Manas joined her on either side and she bowed her head.

“Let us pray. Dear Lord, please give our Pict friends the strength to stand up to their enemies and defend their home.” She reached for her companions’ hands. “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want…Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil…”

Pia joined in as they recited the words to the Twenty-third Psalm. The trembling in Manas’ hand eased as the prayer continued. When it ended, Valeria sat contemplatively while the bellows of men and the clash of swords jarred her nerves.

They have breached the wall.

Valeria reached her arms around her two dearest friends and held them tight. The warmth of their bodies gave her strength, but her mind flashed back to the night her father died and to the savage Attacotti who stripped her away from everything familiar. They were a formidable foe. A shiver snaked up her spine. Runan was coming for her.

The night wore on as Valeria clung to the two souls who quaked beside her in the dimly lit, tiny chamber. It seemed the fighting would never end. The violent sounds of battle continued to increase in volume. Men bellowed, swords clashed, women screamed. The Attacotti were closing in on the keep.

All three jolted when a loud bang resounded from below. Oisean’s voice roared above the tumult. “I will send ye to yer end!”

The clang of iron striking iron grated between Valeria’s ears. Her trembling fingers clasped around the dirk.

“I cannot take it anymore.” Manas jumped up and ran toward the door.

Valeria caught his arm. “No.”

He turned and faced her, defiant fists on his hips. “I must fight.”

“Yes, but fighting with your head is about knowing when to raise your sword and when to wait. If you charge into the hall now, who will be here to defend me when the enemy pounds on this door?”

“But Picts are out there dying just like me da. I need to be with them.”

Pia stepped forward. “You are not yet a man.”

“I’m near enough to it.” Manas puffed out his little chest and affected a fierce snarl that looked like a baby cub trying to impress his mother.

Valeria folded her arms. “Of course you are, but it takes training to be a swordsman, just like riding a horse. You cannot run head-on with the likes of Runan and expect to live. If you want to fight, you need to learn to wield a sword.”

“But how can I learn? I have no father.”

Valeria shuddered at a high-pitched wail that screeched like death.
I must keep Manas here
. “I’ve no doubt Greum would take you on now he has seen you ride.”