The Fox Read online

  I drank and passed the cup to Beathan. He drank. The blood was warm and tasted of metal. I heard the call of the birds over the bull’s screams, and looked up. The sky over us was black with ravens.

  “This is the sign of Morrigna. The Queen is here and blesses the clan,” I shouted and I raised my bloody arms to the ravens. The crowd cheered, then quieted as they began to feel the tension of the next few moments. If the sacrifice did not go well, the clan would feel the wrath of the gods.

  I nodded to Finlay to carry up the sacred sword. He stood, the bull’s shoulders at his chest, raised it, and plunged it into its back. The sword pierced its heart. The bull raised its head as if surprised, fell to its knees and then, as we raced out of the way, rolled to its side with a huff, dead. A good sacrifice.

  I told the gathered clan, “The peaceful death of the bull is the sign the god Arwan is here. He will bring good hunting and a good harvest for next year.” There were cheers and shouts of happiness among the people.

  Beathan walked forward and commanded attention with raised arms.

  “To celebrate the coming planting season of the Clan,” Beathan shouted to the muttering crowd. “We will have marriages.”

  “I betroth Maira and Clyde.” He raised his hands for the couple to come forward.

  I heard shouts of congratulations.

  “Gara and Lyel.”

  Again, I heard wishes of good luck and a healthy family.

  “Harailt and….”

  My eyes searched and found Jahna, next to Harailt on her tiptoes, steadying herself on his arm. He seemed to be pulling away from her.

  “Harailt and Sileas.”

  The crowd grew quiet. Jahna jumped when Beathan finished the announcement and then stood still. She stared as Harailt walked to a young woman, I assumed was Sileas, and kissed her. I watched Jahna turn and run towards the lake. After a moment of stunned silence, the crowd cheered again. Harailt, a grin on his face, did not notice as Sileas’s eyes followed Jahna with concern.

  I could not follow Jahna. This was the goddess’ moment. I stayed to light the Samhainn fire.

  I sang,

  “These we shall burn today:

  the rowan in the shade,

  the willow near the water,

  the alder of the marshes,

  the birch under the waterfalls,

  the yew for resilience,

  the elm of the brae,

  the oak, shining of the sun,

  the hazel of the rocks, and

  the pine for immortality,

  to call all the gods and goddesses.

  To bring the clan health and food and peace.

  To bring honor and prizes and strength to the warriors.

  To bring music and mead to all in the coming spring.”

  Kenric passed me a burning oak brand. I let it fall on one stack and then the second, creating two purifying fires. The heat burned the hairs on my arms as I threw in the cup used to drink the blood.

  “Let the fire receive the bull.” I directed the body of the bull to be thrown on the first fire. “You may now pass between the fires, bring your animals, and be purified for the new-year. Be protected and comforted by the gods. Give your sacrifices and light your brands to rekindle your home fires as you pass.”

  The farmers and warriors lead families, ponies, cattle, sheep, and goats between the fires. All threw in a gift – harvested grain, wool, or other items – and reached out for a piece of the fire to take home. I watched as Wynda, Jahna’s mother, threw in a piece of plaid cloth. The air filled with smoke that carried the smell of burning meat and wool to the sky.

  JAHNA

  Why was I passed over and not hand-fasted to Harailt? I was worthless and abandoned. I ran to the lake and fell to its muddy bank, confused. My life had ended. The ravens were gone. I sat next to a lake that was deathly still. The smell of burning animals drifted in the air and choked me. I was alone; the clan was passing through the fires to be purified and I was not there. My arms crossed my breasts, and I shook as I cursed.

  “How could you refuse me? How could you leave me alone?” I screamed at the iron sky.

  I folded into myself, knowing I would never be the same. I would not be able to face the clan again. I sat as the sun traveled through the day, and the sky darkened with the coming intolerable night, shivering in my aloneness.

  “Jahna.”

  I had not heard him approach. I jumped when he spoke.

  “It will be dark soon. You must come back to your home,” Lovern said.

  “How can I? I can never go home. I have been cursed,” I whispered.

  “No. You have not been cursed,” he said.

  I lifted my tear-stained face, brushing my stringy hair away to look at him.

  “I told you this morning in the stable. We shall find out what our path is together. You could not be betrothed,” he said. “I spoke with Beathan and he acknowledged what the goddess has asked of you.”

  He kneeled beside me as I sat up, wrapping my cloak tightly around myself to shield him from touching me.

  “I was supposed to be with Harailt after the fires, celebrating. We were going to go back to his farm and eat a meal. Where is he now?” I asked.

  “He is with his betrothed,” he said.

  “You come here, not invited, and destroy my life. You invade my dreams and do not let me sleep. You convince Beathan that I should not be married to Harailt, yet you do not tell me why! I am cursed for knowing you. I wish I had never seen you! What is it you want from me?” Bewildered and angry, I slapped him. I hit him and struck him until I yielded to the ground again, sobbing. He knelt, defiant, through my tirade.

  “I envisioned our future together. The goddess gave me your dreams. Now, we must determine why. I must be sure in my mind what our destiny is, Jahna,” he said.

  He was quiet as the moments passed and my sobbing eased.

  As he gave me time to calm myself, I remembered what I experienced in my passage dreams. I was content to be with him, and I wanted to help him at those times. I knew he was spiritual and determined. But for me, confusion still reigned. He changed my future. He destroyed it. I do not know what was to be ahead of me. He said we have a destiny together. At least I would not be alone.

  “My future. Our future,” I said, wiping my face with the back of my hand. “We have a journey to take.” I looked at him, remembering my passage dream. “There was blood on your arms.”

  “Yes, your mother gave me some water to wash after the purifying.”

  He thought I meant the blood from the bull. I meant the blood of the fox.

  “She also gave me food. I brought you bread and boiled pork,” he said.

  I salivated. I had not eaten for many hours.

  I stretched to take the bread and pork. He held it just out of my reach. I looked up at him and scowled with hunger and annoyance. He had caused me to be here, and now he played with me. I hated him again. I wanted to be anywhere but here right now.

  “I must ask you to swear to something before you eat,” he said.

  “I do not see why I need to swear anything to you. You have taken away my life. Why should I talk to you at all?”

  Lovern stood. He was not as tall as Beathan, yet he towered over me with a sharp, appraising look. I saw the muscles of his jaw working under his beard. His eyes were intensely blue-black. I was not as brave as I wished, and I trembled.

  “Beathan, your chieftain, has given me leave to talk to you. I am a druid. You must obey me. You must obey my demands, or I will take you to be tried before the clan council,” he said with authority.

  If he spoke with the council about my dreams, they could accuse me of being evil. I could be a sacrifice at the next quarter ceremony. I could not explain my passage dreams. I grew frightened.

  I stared at him and asked, “What do you want me to swear?”

  “I have two questions. You must look in my eyes and swear the truth of your answers. I will know whether you are telling fa
lsehoods.”

  Standing as tall as I could, I only came to his chest. My dress and cape were dripping mud and wet grass, and I shivered. I looked into his deep eyes in the darkening daylight, and I noticed his full brows pull together, creasing his forehead.

  “I must know whether you have been influenced by a man in any way,” he said.

  “Influenced by a man? Pff. What a stupid question. I am a loyal clanswoman; of course a man had influenced me. Beathan, my chieftain–”

  “Have you ever lain with a man?” he interrupted.

  “No! I have lived with my mother and never have let any man touch me. Ever!” Now, I was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen.

  He nodded and continued, “Have you ever harmed or wanted to harm anyone through your dreams?”

  I stood there, looking at him and remembering my passage dreams. I felt his emotions when we were together in the dreams. I felt his excitement of the hunt, his fear at the sacrifice. I felt the confusion of the girl I visited, Aine. I wanted to convey peace and comfort to both, never anything harmful. A moment passed, his eyes narrowed and jaws clenched, and he began to move away from me, taking the food.

  “Wait!” I reached out and grabbed his arm. “I swear I have never wanted to harm anyone in my life, awake or in my dreams, except you just a few moments ago. I am hungry, cold, and tired and you have destroyed my life. You withhold food from me and threaten me with the council. You tell me my mother and chieftain approve of this treatment. I want to strike you!” Anger writhed in my stomach. Then, my shoulders sank. I knew could not hit him. Beaten, I turned from him and cried, “I do not want to be here.”

  I put my face in my hands, and sat back down on the cold ground. The sky was grey, filled with cruel clouds. The glaring sun was leaving, setting behind the three hills. I told the truth and could do no more. Let him take me to the council. I did not care. I folded in upon myself.

  He laid his cape across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body. I relaxed, enveloped in his odor of earth and acorns. He gave me bread and meat; I ate. Then, he lifted me into his arms. His body warmed me and I stopped shivering. My head rested on his shoulder. I fell asleep with the rocking of his body as he carried me home.

  The following morning, I woke up in my own bed.

  At breakfast, my mother told me the gods and druids often changed the plans of men.

  “So it is,” she said. “So it is.”

  She told me I was to meet the druid by the lake where we were last night. I did what I was told. I put on my dress, combed the grass from my hair, and went to the lake.

  A storm was coming. The sky darkened, and rain scented the air. As I walked past others on the path, a few people wished me good morning and I was surprised. I did not expect anyone to acknowledge me after yesterday.

  When I arrived, he was waiting. He wore the cloak and acorn pin Beathan had given him. His unbound red hair blew around his face in the wind. His clean-shaven face was unusual as the men of my clan wore beards. He was more handsome than the warrior Braden, and my breath caught in my throat. I was disappointed in myself. I did not want to like him. I hardened my thoughts about him.

  “I am glad to see you are well today. Did you get some rest and food?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said, curtly.

  “I told Beathan we have no need for the council. I did not tell him about your dreams and our meeting in them.”

  The wind began to blow harder; my skirt stung my ankles as it whipped around. What did he want of me?

  “I still have some questions in my mind. I do not understand why we have this connection. We must find out together. In a dream, the goddess showed me both you and I standing on a mountain, looking over this valley. We were protecting it and each other. I must understand our bond to know what is expected of us.” He looked at me with concern on his face.

  Maybe he is right. Druids often had dreams of the future. But I feared his words in my heart. Why would my clan need protection?

  “The wind is bringing in a storm with a bitter edge to it,” I said as I wrapped my arms around my shoulders. I wished I had worn my oiled cloak.

  He looked up at the dark, cloudy sky. “It will not rain for a few hours more. I want to walk around the lake with you.” He opened his arms and invited me to walk next to him, warmed under his cloak, his arm around my shoulders.

  “What is the name of this lake?” he asked, pointing his chin at the wind blown waves.

  “Loch Dubh. Black Lake. It is black during all the seasons. I am told other lakes are blue.”

  “You have never seen other lakes?”

  “No. I have never been away from here. Except in my passage dreams.”

  We walked further. He was quiet until we reached the high point of the shore. The wind was stronger, and I leaned into it to stand upright. We stood on the bank and looked out over the lake. The hills were behind him now, and he looked like a warrior, standing against the wind with his hair blowing away from his clean, strong face.

  “It is here our chieftains made sacrifices before and after battle,” I observed, pointing to the lake. “Kenric told me there are iron and bronze swords down there.”

  “Has there been a human sacrifice here? I feel lingering souls,” he asked.

  “There were several when I was very young. Warriors taken in clan battles. I remember feasts, and after, the heads on our gate. Mother told me it was common during her childhood. She said some of the heads of our clansmen hung on other fences. It was the way of life. Since Beathan has been chieftain, though, battles are rare. He brought peace to this valley. His wife was from the clan we often fought. They talked a truce, and she came to live with us as his wife. We have no reason for a human sacrifice. The animal sacrifices seem to placate the gods. There have been no battles or threats in recent times.”

  I was still unsure how I felt about him. I did not trust him. The gods had guided him here, so he said. I asked the gods to guide me through his actions. My uncle and my mother gave my life to him, but I would not do so as easily. I would not give in to him unless he proved his worth to me. He would not have my spirit unless I gave it.

  Lovern looked into the distance as if he saw riders on ponies fleeing across our farm fields. His brow filled with furrowed rows. His arm slightly pulled me closer to him, while I wanted to pull away. I stayed near him only for his warmth.

  “No threats. No threats yet,” he quietly murmured as we turned to walk home in silence.

  CHAPTER 4

  JAHNA

  73 AD January

  Time was not my friend.

  The moon passed through her cycle before Lovern and I spoke again. A slow fire burned in my belly, fueled by discontent and confusion. Bothersome questions repeated and grew to command my thoughts during sleepless nights.

  My mother and I still helped serve the evening meal to my uncle, his warriors, invited clansmen, and the druid. While the warriors and my uncle boasted the bravado stories of hunts and mischief, I stared at the lodge’s packed dirt floor. To avoid Lovern, I walked to the end of the benches and placed the bread out of his reach. My mother or Drista refilled his mead. I watched. Lovern ate sparingly and drank little. He rarely smiled. He did not start conversations but viewed the evening gathering until someone tossed him a question or comment. He petted my uncle’s dogs and fed them bones and scraps from the table.

  When Lovern’s dark, assessing eyes caught mine, I stumbled, balance lost at his glance. As I passed one night, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to him. The laughter and chatter around me was gone from my ears. The air grew silent. My hand shook as I steadied myself against the worn table and tried to push away, unbidden tears tracing my cheeks. I stared into his indiscernible face until his eyes softened, almost imperceptibly, as if he had come to a decision. His mouth formed a smile as he slowly released my arm. The noise of the room came back, and I fell away from him.

  My mother found me huddled against the stone wall, hidden by the smok
e of the peat fire, my quiet tears falling to the dirt floor. Mother frowned, turned to leave and beckoned for me to follow.

  A war raged inside me. I had passage dreams of him as a boy. I knew him before he came to my clan. Why was the boy, now a man, here? The gods were testing me. There was no one to counsel me. Mother’s ear was not sympathetic for my dreams and worries and Ogilhinn, my druid friend, was dead. So I observed, alone, unobserved. Or so I thought.

  Lovern left the hilltop to visit farmers’ abodes daily. I followed, out of sight, and watched as he kneeled to talk to children, touching their cheeks with kindness. He spoke with the mothers and wives and gave them potions. His hands moved in conversations with the farmers while they surveyed the pigs. He seemed benevolent from a distance. Sometimes my doubts eased while I watched him. Lovern said the gods had spoken, that we had a journey to make together. If the gods speak, then we must listen. We built our lives around that rule. But, I was still wary.

  One afternoon, when the sky darkened with the clouds that lay threatening overhead, Lovern stood tall in the center of the hill fort. His feet were spread wide, and his arms were crossed. His eyes followed me like a hawk flying over a field mouse. I went to the well, fed the animals, and swept my home. Defiant, I kept my face turned; he learned naught from me. Or so I thought.

  It was the season the gods sent the dark times, the beginning of our year. Now, the sun rested longer and our daylight was short.

  Mother breathed with more difficulty on the days the lamps were lit. The smoky air in our abode clotted her lungs. She sometimes rose at night and rushed outside. She stood on her tiptoes, braced against our wall, her neck stretched and her mouth reaching for air. I followed and covered her hot body with a blanket against a chill that seeped into my heart, as she panted like a dog that had lost to a rabbit in a chase. Cords in her thin neck strained as she coughed up the bad air that invaded her body. I had seen others with the same breathing pattern while accompanying Ogilhinn.

  I knew a few of the healing arts. Ogilhinn taught me about some herbs and medicines. What I learned was not sufficient to feel skilled enough to help the ill often, but my soul pulled me to help when I could.