“No! Please, can we stay together? My uncle needs me to stay with him at all times. He’s…well, he’s…”
“Simple minded”, the King supplied smoothly. “Or at least pretending to be.” He began walking towards the broch, and she and Angus were forced to fall in behind him by the curious crush of people on all sides. As they neared the cluster of buildings, he stopped, and Nessa jumped as a cool, soft hand closed around her wrist. Petra.
“Come with me now, child”, the woman said. Her voice was gentle. Kind. Her inquisitive eyes were shining in her softly age-worn but still pretty face. Behind Petra, Bridei nodded to a man, who took hold of Angus.
“You must excuse the lack of my usual hospitality”, he said. “As you must know, we are in the midst of a war, and must proceed with vigilance when strangers arrive. I am a man of caution, above all else, when it comes to protecting my people.”
“Guilty until proven innocent”, she mumbled.
He smiled at her, though it wasn’t a friendly smile. Like everything else about him, that smile was purely dominant. “Exactly.”
Bridei turned and walked away. A few strands of his long hair had escaped their binding and were blowing in the sea breeze and she narrowed her eyes as a strong feeling of familiarity, almost like déjà vu washed over her. It was as if she’d been here before, watching him walk away just as she was now…
Petra tugged at her arm. “Come. Let’s get you warm and dry.”
“Goahead, take this off. Put on the dry clothing.” Petra fingered the damp cotton of her t-shirt. As soon as the door had closed behind them, she had started chatting and hadn’t stopped. “Do they dress so differently in Fife? I never knew. Of course, I’ve never been there myself.”
“Well, not exactly. I mean, we dress the same as people here most of the time.” Nessa skirted her questions as best she could. Funny how quickly her mind was adapting to the language. Words were sliding into her head and off her tongue now as if Pict was the only language she’d been born to, and not one she had only ever spoken in private with her family. Already, somewhere deep inside, she was suspicious that the entire reason she had been born into that family was because she was destined to end uphere. Only that wasn’t possible. Why would she bethe one, after hundreds of years? She just didn’t have the ego to believe she was that special. Maybe other, distant members of her family had been here too? Maybe even Gram… Wouldn’t Gram have told her though?
They were in one of the small, round, wooden buildings surrounding the broch. It was cozy but rather dark, since there were only two small windows, and the heavy wooden door was currently shut against the crowd of curious people still milling around outside, pretending to be chatting with friends about the weather when all they really wanted was to catch a glimpse of what was going on inside. She was glad to see that so far none of them were so bold to peek in the windows. It still gave her the sinking feeling of being surrounded; trapped. And then there was Angus, who was looking around at everything with great interest, as if he was in a museum.
The floor was packed earth, and gave the whole room a dusty, clay-like smell, which wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It was kept bare and smooth with a large straw broom that leaned against the wall near the doorframe. The entire center of the room was taken up by a stone hearth, which was round and several layers high, with a large iron pot hanging over it on an iron tripod and chain. She wished there were a fire burning to warm her up.
She shivered again, and Petra shoved the clothing at her insistently. Nessa took a tunic from her and fingered the fabric. It was soft and finely woven—linen, if she wasn’t mistaken, and dyed a dark blue. She had perhaps imagined that the fabric her ancestors had worn to be courser or more primitive in some way. This cloth was beautiful.
Petra watched her study the clothing. “Is it not to your liking? Should I find you something else to wear?”
“No…no this is fine. I just…well, I don’t usually undress in front of my uncle. Or other men.” She tilted her head to indicate the man who had brought Angus in, who was now standing in front of the closed door. He was watching her intently, as if waiting for a private show denied to all the others outside. Meanwhile, Angus still wandered around, studying the sparse furniture and poking into a few boxes and bowls that lined a single shelf against the rounded wall. The shelf had been carved to perfectly fit the curve of the wall. She looked more closely. Were some of those bowls and cups made ofgold?
There was a firm knock at the door, and the man guarding it jumped to attention, making way for—the door opened—the King. It shut behind him with a loud bang and the guard moved back into place.
Nessa’s heart picked up speed. That strange sense ofsomethingwashed over her again. It was as if she was trying to remember something that was playing at the edge of her mind, but she just couldn’t grasp it.
Bridei looked her up and down, once more all but ignoring Angus. “You’re still wet. Why haven’t you changed clothing?”
“She doesn’t undress in front of men”, Petra told him, as if it were the oddest thing she’d ever heard. “Not even her own uncle. The people of Fife must be so much stranger than I knew.”
Especiallynot my own uncle, Nessa thought. She wasn’t a prude by any means, but being naked in front of Angus?Ick. She could probably live with the other man seeing her nude if it came down to it; modesty really wasn’t her biggest problem right now.
Bridei moved closer to her. He had the strength and grace of a panther, she thought. And the closer he came, the faster her heart seemed to beat, until it was beating even faster than the butterfly wings in her stomach. He stopped just in front of her, reached out and took her chin in his hand, stepping too closely into her space. This time it was a gesture of control, rather than affection, as with Veda.
“So shy? Are you hiding something beneath your clothing that you don’t wish us to see? A weapon, perhaps?”
“No…I…”
His nostrils flared, and for a moment she almost imagined his eyes had widened in surprise. He abruptly dropped his hand from her chin.
“You… what?”
Nessa could feel her face heating. She couldn’t fathom why this was such a big deal to her when her life was in danger. Talk about ingrained cultural taboo. “My uncle has never seen me without clothes on.”
Bridei seemed to consider this for a moment. “I know of a people who insist on keeping their skin covered from each other as if their bodies are shameful to them. They call themselves Christians. Their priests are always coming to me, trying to convince me to follow their Christ. I send them away. Skin is meant to know the sun and feel the sea-breeze.”
Nessa’s mind raced. Send them away…was this a way out? “How do you know I’m not a Christian priest then?”
He looked amused. “Because only men come to me. The followers of this Christ keep their women subdued and silent. And covered from head to foot in thick woolen cloth. You are not dressed like a Christian woman, lass.”
Bridei turned and nodded to the man at the door. “Take the uncle to the hall and tend to him there.”
