The Swordswoman Collection

Chapter 12

"We are discussing our next move," Melcorka explained, as they entered the castle. "I proposed asking the Lord of the Isles and the Picts of Fidach for help."

"They would be powerful allies and formidable enemies," Douglas said. He glanced back at his men. "As I have already said, I have twenty-two riders here, and I can raise more along the southern frontier. Without our swords to stop them, the Saxons will increase their raiding, but we can deal with them once we have defeated the Norse."

"You used an old sword at the battle," Melcorka said.

"My grandfather"s sword," Douglas told her. "And his father"s before him."

"You used it well."

"Until it broke," Douglas said. His smile lightened his eyes.

With Douglas backing her, Melcorka found it easier to stir up support for her ideas. Baetan agreed, reluctantly, that the Picts were worth asking, "Although they won"t help us," he added.

"If they don"t help," Douglas pointed out, "they will be surrounded by Norse on land and sea. Do you think the Norse will leave them in peace? Think of the loot the Norse will garner in Am Broch – that"s the royal dun of Fidach – and think of all these nubile Pictish women!"

Bradan shook his head. "I can"t see the Norse leaving them alone."

"Nor can I," Douglas said. "Now, all we have to do is persuade the Picts of that."

"It will be a brave man who ventures there," Baetan reminded him.

"I will go," Bradan volunteered. "Drest of Fidach knows me."

"I will go to the Isles," Baetan decided. "I know Donald." He glanced at Melcorka. "Although I don"t hold out much hope of his help."

"I will raise the riding families of the Border," Douglas said, "or what is left of them after the battle of the Lodainn Plain." He held Melcorka"s gaze. "Next time we fight, I wish to be mounted. We are horse-soldiers, not infantrymen."

"We will all gather what forces we can and meet somewhere convenient for all," Melcorka said. "I suggest we meet where the Norse are weakest, so we have time for our armies to merge."

Baetan grunted. "Our men will probably fight each other. I can"t see the riders of the southern marches fighting alongside the Picts of Fidach."

"Either they fight side by side, or they are defeated piecemeal by the Norse," Bradan said. "They will have to learn."

"You have decided where we all go," Baetan said to Melcorka, "and while we are doing the work, what will you be doing? Perhaps you will be playing with your wool basket?"

"I will accompany Bradan to Fidach," Melcorka decided. "I have no knowledge of the southern marches, and I know that Donald of the Isles was no friend of my mother. It would not be politic for me to go there, I think."

"So we are to part before we have properly met," Douglas said.

"No, by God!" the Constable roared. "Nobody enters my castle without my permission, or leaves without my hospitality! We have a tradition of a parting feast, and that is what we will have tonight."

"I"ve never been to a feast," Melcorka said.

The Constable"s laugh boomed around the castle. "Never? Then by God, Melcorka, tomorrow you will have memories that will last you forever!" He clapped his hands together. "Raid the storehouses! Bring out the tables. I want food and drink for all. I want dancing, music and laughter. Let us celebrate life in the middle of disaster!"

Retainers and servants seemed to appear from every nook and corner as the Constable transformed the grim, grey castle from a place of war and grief, to a place of laughter and entertainment. The Constable ordered long tables to be set out in the great hall and the courtyard outside, with torches giving sputtering light as the day dimmed and stars emerged in a sky of velvet black.

"Come, Melcorka." The Constable put an arm like the bough of an oak-tree around her shoulders. "You must sit at my table."

Twenty-four hours previously, Melcorka had entered a chamber full of despair, but that night music and song rang around, with the Constable ensuring everybody took part. There were two harpers on a raised dais during a meal of five courses. Melcorka viewed the meal, which ranged from barley-broth soup to salmon, venison and beef, with a variety of vegetables she had never experienced before.

"You have a very impressive table," she said.

"There is more to come," the Constable said truthfully, as delicious apples and pears followed, accompanied by strawberries and raspberries, fresh and smothered in cream from a score of cows.

"I have never seen so much food in one place," Melcorka said. "How do you keep the fruit fresh?"

"Ice is the answer," the Constable said. "We have deep cellars filled with winter ice." He laughed. "Enjoy it, Melcorka, for you may never see so much again if the Norse retain control. It will be starvation for all except the lords and masters of creation, the men of the dragon ships."

Melcorka bit into a crisp apple. "I would like to hold a feast like this someday." She looked around at the crowded tables. "I"ve never thought to be a grand lady."

As half a dozen servants cleared away the tables, three bagpipers began strutting around, with a couple of drummers and a brace of harpers. Melcorka had never seen anything like it before and watched entranced as men and women paired off and danced around the room. The lilt and swing of the music lifted her spirits, so she smiled with the others and even joined in some of the singing, although she did not know the words.

"Here, try this." The Constable handed over a silver-mounted horn. "You"ll like it."

Melcorka lifted the horn and sniffed. "It"s mead." She took a tentative sip. "Good mead."

"Heather mead." The Constable"s grin made him appear years younger. "Our bees have the run of the hills here." He held up his own horn. "Alba gu brath."

Alba gu brath"Alba gu brath!" Melcorka echoed. "Alba forever!"

Alba gu brathThey smiled at each other, and the Constable ambled away, pouring mead into empty horns or heather ale into ready tankards, laughing at a score of jokes, dancing with vivacious women, kissing willing lips and generally playing the genial host.

"He acts as if he had never thrown a prisoner over the walls or killed a man in combat in his life." Douglas appeared at Melcorka"s side. "There"ll be sore heads tomorrow." His smile lit up his hazel eyes.

"Mine among them." Melcorka drained her horn and looked for a refill.

"Shall we dance?" Douglas asked.

"I don"t know how," Melcorka admitted.

"I"ll teach you." Douglas took hold of her arm. "Up you come."

"But…" Melcorka looked around for support. Bradan stood against the wall, leaning on his staff. He raised a hand in acknowledgement, gave a small smile and turned away. Everybody else in the room and the courtyard outside was dancing or singing, drinking their fill and laughing the night away. Reality could wait; hide the terror behind the mead-created laughter and dance rather than run.

"Like this…" Douglas put his right hand in hers and wrapped his left arm around her waist. "Get rid of the sword," he said. "You can"t dance with a sword on your back, or…" he slipped the dirk from its sheath, "a knife at your waist." He handed both to a servant. "Take care of these," he said. "If they go missing, so will your ears, and the head in between them."

"I"ll take care of them," the man promised.

Melcorka laughed, swallowed half a horn of heather ale and slipped her arm around the back of Douglas. "You are very muscular," she observed, rubbing her hand up and down, feeling his strength. She explored further. "Even that part of you. You must do a lot of riding."

"Oh, I do a great deal of riding." He pushed against her hand. "In the marches, we spend most of our lives in the saddle. It hardens that part of us."

"I like it." Melcorka patted his backside.

"So do I." Douglas"s voice was soft.

The music changed, becoming wilder as the night progressed. Men and women whooped and screeched as they danced, hands aloft, feet thumping on the stone flags as torches sent their shadows bouncing across the walls. One time, Melcorka found herself part of a group of ten people dancing in an extended row that stretched right across the room, and then everybody was on their feet outside in a huge, linked snake that coiled around the courtyard.

The tempo changed as fingers of grey heralded dawn. Some people slept in odd corners, while still the drink came and music softened the mood. Quiet, slow dances saw couples slink into secluded chambers for moments of intimacy. Melcorka realised her popularity as every male within the walls of Castle Gloom sought her company, and she exchanged kisses and touches with men she had never seen before.

"You are well liked, Melcorka of the Cenel Bearnas," a smiling woman told her.

"So it seems," Melcorka agreed. "There are many handsome men here."

"I am Anice," the woman said, "wife to the Constable." She was short and plump and friendly, with bright blue eyes that took in everything.

"Good evening to you, Anice." Melcorka tried to curtsey and dance simultaneously and succeeded only in tripping over her own feet, much to Anice"s amusement.

"It is good morning again," Anice corrected, as she helped Melcorka back upright. "The second morning of the feast, I think, or perhaps the third."

"Has time passed so quickly?"

"It has," Anice said, "and that young man with the black hair is watching you again."

Melcorka looked over her shoulder. "Douglas the Black," she said.

"As black a Douglas as ever was," Anice agreed. "You had better bed him and slake his desire, lest he goes to war unfulfilled."

Melcorka opened her eyes in astonishment. "I have never shared my bed with a man," she said.

"No?" Anice stepped back and looked her up and down. "And you such a shapely, well-formed creature, too! What a waste that is. Best for you, too, then, or you will be back at war without knowing what pleasure a man can bring." She pushed Melcorka toward him. "Off you go and enjoy yourself!"

Douglas was waiting, arms out and eyes lively despite the days and nights of drinking and dancing. He took her hand in his, and they danced up the circular stairs to a dark room, waited until another giggling couple left and then flopped down on a mattress of soft heather, with the sun streaming through an arrow-slit window and the strains of the harper as an accompaniment.

"You fought well on the Plain of Lodainn," Melcorka said.

"It was a bad day for Alba," Douglas said lightly, "but every day has its silver lining." He smiled into her eyes. "You saw me. Did you like what you saw?"

"I liked it very much." Melcorka felt the thumping of her heart. Her body also sent out other messages that both thrilled and scared her. "I like you very much."

youHis smile wrapped around her in shared joy. "Look at this," he said and produced a battered, blood-stained square of fine linen. "This is my trophy of that day in Lodainn."

Melcorka gasped. "That"s the Blue Boar, the royal banner!"

"I know." Douglas folded it away with a smile. "It is beautiful, isn"t it?" He smoothed a hard hand down her body, lingering in certain places. "But compared to you, it is ugly as the devil"s tail."

"Oh…"Melcorka felt his hands exploring her, closed her eyes and allowed these strange new feelings to guide her. That was not difficult, with Douglas to reassure and help whenever she was unsure.

Afterwards, as she lay n***d at his side, Melcorka looked down at her own body in astonishment and at that of Douglas in awe.

"I had no idea it would be like that," she said.

Douglas grinned over to her, extended a hand and caressed her. "It changes every time," he said. "From visiting heaven, to frustration when things do not happen as they should." He smoothed her from neck to knees and all parts in between. "You should have no difficulty in finding a partner whenever you seek one, with a body like yours."

Melcorka said nothing as she walked her fingers toward him and over him. "Show me again," she invited, "I see you are ready." At that moment, she did not want another partner. She wanted the Black Douglas, for she knew she was in love. This man was to be her partner in life. She had found one part of her destiny. The other, she did not know.

"We have to get rid of the Norse," she said, although, for the first time since she had seen the Norse fleet off the coast of Alba, they were secondary to her life. All she wanted was this man, as often as she could and for as long as she could.

"We will do that," Douglas promised, as he rolled her on top of him and smiled into her eyes. "Just not quite at this moment," he said, as he entered her again. And Melcorka forgot all about Norsemen and dragon ships and the war to remove them from Alba, as more personal and urgent matters required her full attention.

"Dear Melcorka," Douglas"s voice was soft in her ear, "I think I am falling in love with you."

Melcorka closed her eyes and allowed the waves of pleasure to ripple through her.

The sweet notes of a blackbird woke her and she lay in deep contentment. Knowing that her life had changed forever, she stretched on her heather bed and opened her eyes. All around her lay men and women, some dressed, some half-dressed, many as n***d as they had been born, in every position of sleep and awakening, while air seeped through the arrow-slit window to assuage the stale smell of people who had drunk too deeply and slept too long. Melcorka smiled, eased herself into a sitting position and groaned as her head and stomach complained about such unnecessary movement.

"Oh, sweet God." She returned to the heather, holding her head. "What have you done to me?"

Unsure which was worse, the ache in her head or the uncomfortable movements of her stomach, Melcorka decided that the latter required her immediate consideration and lurched up to find a secluded spot to attend to its demands. She was not alone, she found, with half a dozen people, men and women, following the needs of nature as a consequence of days of feasting, dancing and drinking.

"Enjoy your first feast then?" the Constable was as hearty as ever as he stalked his domain. "Anice told me you had other firsts apart from the feast!" His laugh cracked like the devil"s hammers within Melcorka"s thundering head.

She winced. "Yes, thank you, Constable."

"Grand!" He nearly knocked her down as he slapped her on the back. "Now you are fit to fight the Norse, eh? All set up and eager, I"ll wager."

At that moment Melcorka did not feel fit to stand, yet alone fight. "Yes, Constable," she said. "Could you ask a servant to fetch my sword, please? I handed it over at the beginning of the dancing."

"That is some weapon you have." The Constable seemed to shout every word. "Your colleague is examining it at present. He"s in the courtyard, I believe."

"Douglas the Black?" Melcorka smiled as the memories returned.

"No, the other one."

"Bradan? I did not think that he was interested in swords," Melcorka said.

"No, the survivor, Baetan." The Constable moved on, whistling as he toured his castle.

The jolt of anxiety was deep and sudden as Melcorka hurried to the courtyard. Baetan was standing in the middle of an admiring circle of spectators, demonstrating various moves with Defender.

"Ah, there you are, Melcorka." He looked up as she stormed into the courtyard, wincing at the pain her movements caused her. "I was examining this fine sword of yours."

"Yes, this fine sword of mine!" Melcorka tried to snatch Defender back.

mineBaetan sidestepped with ease. "It is well-balanced." He moved away, evading each of Melcorka"s attempts at retrieval. "Without this sword, you are only a girl, are you not? A girl of twenty who has no experience of fighting, yet alone leading, and yet you are trying to raise armies to fight the Norse." He held Defender high as Melcorka vainly stretched for it.

"Give me my sword back," Melcorka demanded.

"Oh, you"ll have to do better than that," Baetan mocked. "You sound like a child!" He adopted a high-pitched tone. "Give me my toy back, please, Baetan. It"s mine, not yours."

One or two of the spectators laughed. Melcorka stepped back. She saw some of the Border riders come into the courtyard, stand at the back and watch. They were hard-eyed, cynical-faced men who spent their lives defending the southern frontier from Saxon raids. She felt sure they would tell Douglas all that happened here, how she was made to look a fool by Baetan and was unable to retrieve her own sword.

Anice pushed her way to the front of the crowd, watching and saying nothing. Bradan was at the back, leaning against the wall with his stick at an angle in front of him. Melcorka could not meet his eye.

"Say please." Baetan held Defender high. "Say please, Baetan, may I have my sword back."

pleaseplease, Baetan, may I have my sword backA youth in the crowd bellowed with laughter, and others followed as Melcorka stepped back, unsure what to do. She knew that, with Defender in her hand, she could at least hold her own with Baetan, while without the sword she was only an awkward island girl who had never managed to lay a blade on him in a score of practice sessions. The burly warrior would dice her in seconds. She sighed and hung her head.

"You are right, Baetan." She heard the defeat in her small voice. "I am only a young and inexperienced girl." She looked up to see the triumph in his face. "I cannot get Defender from you. Please, may I have it back?"

Bradan narrowed his eyes and tapped his staff on the ground, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of the courtyard. The singing of a lone blackbird dominated the castle.

"Only if you beg." Baetan pointed to the flagstones in front of him. "Go down on your knees, girl, and beg me to hand back this sword." He smiled to the ever-swelling crowd. "Even then, I may decide to keep it. This sword is too good for a woman!"

Some of the younger men laughed out loud at that. Melcorka stretched up again as Baetan shook his head.

"Kneel, I said. Kneel in front of me."

Melcorka saw Bradan violently shake his head as she dropped to her knees. There was a ripple of laughter from the crowd, louder than before.

"Now beg!" Baetan ordered.

"Like this?" Melcorka raised her arms in a pose of supplication, hands pressed together. "Or like this?" She suddenly lunged forward, thrusting the straight fingers of both hands hard into Baetan"s groin. He gasped and bent double as Melcorka rose, took Defender from his slack grip and swung the flat of it hard against his shoulders.

"That"s how we deal with bully-boys," Melcorka said, and swung again, landing a very satisfying thwack. "Come on, girls! Show him what we do with bullies!"

thwackAs the men watched, some of the women in the audience joined in, kicking and slapping at the discomfited Baetan, who scurried toward the gateway at the centre of a knot of laughing women. As he reached the door, he stopped, pushed one of the women to the ground and grabbed a sword from one of the guards.

"I"ll split you in half!" he roared and lifted his sword high to strike, until Bradan thrust the end of his staff into his throat, lifting his chin higher.

"There will be no killing." He did not raise his voice. "You started the trouble, Melcorka finished it, and that"s it done with."

Anice pushed the women aside. "You are no warrior," she said to Baetan. "You are not even a man." She plucked the sword from his grasp and returned it to its rightful owner. "Get out of this castle. Ladies!" her voice was high and clear. "Hold him and bring the stang!"

"You can"t!" Baetan backed away as a score of women grabbed hold of him and held tight. Others brought a fifteen foot long tree trunk as thick as a man"s calf and with the bark still in place. "Prepare him and on with him!" Anice ordered.

"No!" Baetan protested, as the women stripped him n***d and shoved him astride the stang. They bounced him painfully up and down as they paraded around the castle. Melcorka watched as the women, and even some of the men, crowded around, hooting, jeering, striking at Baetan with sticks, throwing fruit and eggs at him and running alongside the stang to slap at his legs and body, as he tried to balance and shield his more tender parts from contact with the rough bark.

"He"ll think twice before he bullies another female," Anice said. "I usually use the stang for men who a***e their wives, or wives who cheat on their husbands."

After a circuit of the castle, the women carried the stang right down to the river at the castle boundary and tossed Baetan into the Burn of Sorrow.

"Keep his clothes," somebody laughed.

"No. Who wants that running n***d around the country? It will scare the horses!" Jeering, the women threw his clothes into the burn at his side.

that"Don"t come back," Anice advised, as Baetan, battered, bruised and cowed, limped away, still n***d and carrying his soaking wet clothes. A crowd of hooting women watched.

"I am afraid you have lost your emissary to the Isles, Melcorka," Anice said.

Melcorka nodded. "I don"t think he will be any loss."

The women were still laughing as they returned to the castle, recounting their parts in the stanging of Baetan.

"That was some blow you struck him," one plump blonde said cheerfully. "He won"t be bedding any women for some time after that!"

"No," Melcorka agreed. She looked around the room. "Has anybody seen the Black Douglas? He is not here."

Bradan lifted a hand. "I know where he is." He left his position against the wall. "Do you wish to see him?"

"Of course I do." Melcorka followed Bradan across the courtyard to a small lean-to building against the far wall.

"He is not alone," Bradan warned.

"Oh." Melcorka fought her immediate stab of disappointment. "Is he with his Border riders?"

"No." Bradan put a hand on her arm. "He is not with any man," he said. "Are you sure you wish to continue?"

Melcorka felt the slide of dread. "Yes, I am sure." She followed Bradan to the lean-to. "I will go in myself," she said.

"As you will." Bradan stepped back.

Melcorka pushed open the door. Douglas was face down on a pile of straw, with a red-haired woman moaning underneath him. Unaware that Melcorka was watching, Douglas spoke softly in the woman"s ear.

"Dear Eilidh, I think I am falling in love with you."

Melcorka closed the door quietly. She felt sick. Bradan was waiting, ten paces away. "It"s time we were off to Fidach," Melcorka said, "and after that, I will go to the Isles."

"I will collect my gear," Bradan said quietly.