The Forgotten Kingdom by Signe Pike

Author:Signe Pike
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2020-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

I buried Brant’s head at the foot of an oak. It towered just beyond the rampart, where he and Brodyn had so often stood guard when I was a child. As I packed the last of the earth and straightened my back, I could have sworn the branches of the leafless tree rustled in the wind, as if with a sigh.

CHAPTER 24

Angharad

Kingdom of the Picts

25th of October, 573 AD

The fleet sailed north, or so Thomas said. Angharad’s bandages had fallen away, but she had no more need of them. The days passed like water. With each approaching vessel, the eyes of the Picts traveled to their weapons.

Brother Thomas studied the stars. “It seems the fleet means to keep a wide berth from shore. Likely to avoid Angle vessels as they travel up the coast,” he said.

On that first eve, before sleep, the Pictish commander with the fish upon his brow cut short the arms of a thick woolen tunic and offered it to Angharad. It gaped at the neck but fell neatly to her wrists and dropped down to her ankles, keeping her warm. The next day, upon seeing her stumble in its bulk, he unbound the rope at her wrists to use as a belt, then perched on the oar bench beside her. His eyes were the blue of a northern sea, and they were fixed upon Brother Thomas.

“Tell me. Is that priest your father?” he asked.

“You do speak my tongue!” Angharad exclaimed, rushing on in relief. “Sweet Gods, what a blessing! My name is Angharad, daughter of Rhydderch. Elufed is my nain. Surely you know that the queen of Strathclyde herself is a Pict. There was an unspeakable battle, and I was lost from my uncle, who was training me to be a Wisdom Keeper, and my father did not trade for me—”

The commander frowned. “I asked you of the priest.”

“He is not a priest, he is a culdee,” Angharad said. “He has been my protector, and he is a friend.”

“That may be, but I do not keep with priests.”

He sat in silence a long while, considering Brother Thomas, who sat bound at the stern, arms wrapped round his knees. Then the commander turned, rattling something in Pictish to his men. Angharad could not understand, but there was an unsettling change in his tone. The mood on the boat shifted, and two oarsmen stood, striding toward Thomas.

“What’s happening?” Angharad cried. “What is it you would do?”

“I told you, I do not keep with priests.” The commander’s face was grim.

Panic surged as the Picts yanked Brother Thomas to his feet, dragging him to the gunwale of the boat.

Angharad ran to the commander, gripping his arm, but he shook her off, drawing his dirk. “A gift to the sea. When your priest meets Manannan, he will know a true god.”

“No! Please, do not hurt him!” she cried.

“Do not watch. Look away,” Brother Thomas said.

Angharad could not bear it, not one more death. Tears sprang as she clutched the commander’s tunic, dropping to her knees.

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