The sharp tang of fresh blood filled the air, and the body was lifted and ceremoniously placed on the largest fire, which was—conveniently—built in a rectangular shape, about six feet in length. Soon the smell of burning flesh reached her, and it was all she could do to keep the bile from rising in her throat.
Bridei lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Now you have seen what happens to our enemies.” His lips quirked at the corners. “You are pale and trembling. Do you wish to change your story? I am listening.”
“I thought the bodies were thrown into the bog, not…cooked.” she said quietly.
“No, only the Celts throw their dead into the bogs. Though we sometimes punish people by pinning then under the water with stakes while they still breathe.”
She turned her face to break his grip on her chin, and he let go. “But that would kill them.” She imagined the horror of being submerged in the dark, peaty water, sticks and half rotted leaves brushing her skin while she struggled to hold her breath just one second more. She’d had a nightmare like that once. She’d woken up screaming and gasping for air.
He gave a little humorless laugh. “Aye, that is the punishment, lass.”
She looked back to the platform, where now another unfortunate soul was being readied for his death. “Are these people being punished…or sacrificed?” she asked. Somehow she knew she would feel better if they had at least done something to deserve their ritual murder.
“Both. We give a sacrifice of blood and body to the goddess, but we sacrifice those that have wronged us. Our enemies. Our criminals. The goddess of the underworld doesn’t care who we send to her, only that we do it in her name.”
So theywerecriminals. Okay, she could maybe live with that. The man on the platform staring out into the crowd with resignation in his eyes was probably a murderer, or a rapist, or something even worse. His arms were tied above him, and his tunic had been sliced from his body so that it hung in tatters around his waist. The man with the knife stepped forward, held it up to the sky, and repeated the chant. As the crowd answered, he turned and drove the blade into the center of the man’s chest, drawing it down, sawing with effort through the cartilage of his ribs. The crowd chanted louder, and the knife was withdrawn, replaced with hands that were shoved into the chest, spreading it open wider. Luckily, the victim was unconscious, or even dead, by the time his lungs were drawn out of the opening.
“Is that the Blood Eagle? Oh god, I thought only the Vikings did that.” She cursed the tremble in her voice that made her seem weak. In truth, she was surprised she was still standing and hadn’t yet vomited.I’m stronger than I ever thought I was. The revelation actually bolstered her spirits a little and gave her a bit of hope that she would get out of this whole thing alive. If she could stand here and take in this horror and not faint or heave her guts out, she could doanything.
“Who are these Vikings? The old man speaks of them too.”
He wouldn’t know, she supposed. The Vikings wouldn’t arrive in this part of Scotland for a while yet. “No one, just a tribe I heard of once. From the far North”, she said numbly.
She watched as they cut down the dead man, his lifeless body falling with a dull thud onto the wooden platform, causing blood to spatter on anyone standing near enough. She said a silent prayer for his soul, to no god in particular, but whichever one was listening. “What did he do?” It must have been terrible, whatever it was.
“The man was a horse thief.”
Only a horse thief? God—he must have had one heck of a career. “How…how many horses?”
“One.”
“Onlyone? That’s the punishment for stealingonehorse?”
“Our horses are sacred to us, more valuable than gold. To steal one is to take part of a man’s soul. What is the difference if he stole one horse, or a thousand?”
Bridei marveled at the wide-eyed innocence of this woman. It was as if she had truly never seen a fire ceremony to honor the Earth with the blood of man. Perhaps she had been cosseted and sheltered all her life. And yet, she was no weak and whimpering lass, lost without the safety of some inner sanctum. He saw how she took everything in, her gaze moving from person to person, her intelligent eyes missing nothing. It was either all new to her, or she was seeking out something in particular. At last, it all seemed to all catch up with her, and she swayed a little beside him. He quickly caught her by the elbow, steadying her.
“I think…I think I might faint.” The lass leaned her cheek against his chest for support, and his hand moved to touch her hair, taking advantage of her nearness to find out for himself if it was as soft and thick as sable, as he had thought it might be. It wasn’t though…it was even softer.
“I’m sorry”, she said, recovering herself and pulling away. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired. And I don’t faint—ever.”
Bridei had watched her face carefully during the sacrifices for the slightest sign of her guilt, and the longer he looked at her, the more difficult it became to stop. She was beautiful, to be sure, but it was more than that. There was a light about her, as if she glowed softly from within. Andsomethingabout her made his cock hard and his stomach feel as if it were dropping from a cliff every time he laid eyes on her. He hoped to all the gods that she wasnotan enemy, because it would be a shame to have to snuff out that light and waste such beauty.
The ceremonies tonight took less time than usual—it had been a good moon, with little crime, or perhaps it was just his increased vigilance of late—and so he gripped the lass’s arm and steered her back to the broch. He’d have to bind her with the ropes again, because until he knew the truth, she couldn’t be trusted. He wouldn’t have her escaping or trying to kill him while he slept.
As they passed the kitchen, a large wooden building near the back entrance of the broch, he paused.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her. She must be, he couldn’t recall telling anyone to feed her today.
She nodded, looking down at her feet, which were still clad in those strange straps of leather. “I am.”
He leaned into the doorway of the kitchen. “Seecha! Bring food for the lass, please.” He turned and looked at Nessa, letting his gaze slowly rake over her from head to toe. There was a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach as he did so; a kind of fluttering he had never felt before, but it reminded him of the way his body was on edge and ready just before a battle. He considered for a moment bringing her to another building for the night, but no, the broch was far more secure and easily guarded. He would sleep elsewhere. Not because he needed to avoid temptation; he was above that. But he did not need the rumors and gossip that would follow should he share his room with a woman, enemy or not.
“To my chamber.”
Ifhe’d meant to unbalance her with that dark, hungry look, he had. Little did she know that one day she would come to crave that look with every cell in her body. At this moment, though, it made her more nervous than anything else. She had no way of knowing whether he would force himself on her. She didn’t think he would, but then again, he was known to be ruthless and above the law of the land. Hewasthe law of the land. He could do anything he wanted to her and she would be powerless to stop him. The prospect of rape was slightly better than death, and hehadtold her he wouldn’t touch her in that way. Suddenly the thought of him touching her at all made Nessa’s stomach flutter and her body flood with heat. She didn’t know what was wrong with her traitorous body, but she decided to chalk it up to her recently acquired fear of dying, and perhaps the after-effects of years of fierce warrior fantasies.
They were back in the room where she had already spent most of the day tied to a post; a room she now knew was the King’s personal chamber. He had placed the torch he carried in the holder, then lit three others around the perimeter of the room until the entire space flickered with a warm light. The furnishings were sparse, though beautiful. The bed had a wooden headboard elaborately carved with animal figures, and there were several trunk-like wooden boxes against the wall, also carved with intricate designs and inlaid with what appeared to be gold. There was a table and some chairs, and a large tub for bathing, sitting near the cold and ashy hearth. The night was not cold enough that there was need for a fire. She eyed the wooden post in the center of the room warily. The ropes were still hanging from it.
