The Boar Stone: Book Three of the Dalriada Trilogy by Watson Jules

Author:Watson, Jules [Watson, Jules]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Juality Ltd.
Published: 2007-02-28T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

When they approached the Dun of Bright Water, the sand around the headland was shining wet with the receding tide. Boats were scattered over the beach, with fishermen mending nets and farmers tilling seaweed into the fallow fields behind the dunes.

The defences of the dun itself were formidable. Across the promontory, immense bastions of multiple ramparts had been raised, with deep ditches delved before them. The gates and their rearing towers were painted, gilded and streaming with banners, the rock tunnels they passed through carved with curling designs. The ramparts bristled with spears, as heavily-armed warriors lined all the palisades and towers and paced the walkways, watching the sea and land approaches.

Inside, the enormous fort was on two levels: the lower ringed by high, cliff-top walls that faced out to the crashing waves, the upper crowned by grand buildings and the king’s hall with its soaring roof.

They climbed up wide stairs flanked by armoured warriors and eventually reached the hall, which was draped in gold and blue standards showing a falcon poised for the kill, with outstretched talons and spread wings. Rows of spears in the ground fluttered with pennants of brown and white feathers, and the double doors were hung with bundles of human skulls, yellowed with age.

Minna went to follow Cahir inside, but the Pictish guards at the door lowered their spears to bar her way. She did not think she imagined their expressions, as if she were a deformed thing that had crawled from shadow to sun.

The old druid barked something, and Taran hastily stepped forward. ‘Women are not permitted in the king’s hall except to serve food,’ he said. ‘And certainly not present for matters of state, even if your situation is rather … unusual. You will be taken to the women’s house for now, where servants have orders to attend you.’

She looked desperately to Cahir, but he only nodded with a tight smile. ‘We are protected by the laws of hospitality now, Minna. They are sacred all over Alba. Gede could not harm me at his hearth.’ He glanced at the leering skulls. ‘Even if he wanted to.’

The women’s hall was a small roundhouse with looms set near the door for light, and baskets of wool and fleece by the hearth. Other tools of women’s work were scattered around: spindles, coils of coloured thread, needles and awls, piles of soft leather.

Receiving Taran’s instructions, the three servants inside set aside their sewing and weaving, and bustled back and forth filling a wooden bathtub behind a screen. One pulled the bedraggled twine from Minna’s braids and another went to tug off her filthy clothes. She snatched at each piece as it was removed, self-conscious and then ashamed when the slave-ring came to light. The women peered at it, chattering in their own language, and she dropped her eyes.

One of the women spoke briskly, pointing at her linen shift. She glanced at the steam, her skin suddenly crawling with the film of dried sweat, blood and grime, her hair lank and itchy.

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