Page 11 of Queen of the Hollow Hills (Eagles and Crows #3)

CHAPTER 10

A fter Yule, the winter set in with a vengeance. The wind howled and shook the shutters, and the Brigantes took to their homes. Trade in the markets slowed to a crawl. In a way, it made things easier. Our household became quiet except for Fabius putting on small vignettes to amuse us. Cormag healed quickly while our children grew.

Late one night, deep in the winter, as the wind howled outside our shutters, Cormag lay with his hands on my stomach, the children within me moving.

“Damhan and Brodi were my constant companions growing up, but still, many times, I wished for a sibling who would not silently judge how I came into the world.”

“Even amongst the Votadini, did the manner of your conception matter?”

“They did not call me bastard to my face, but sometimes, in their looks, I saw. My mother has a firm hold on the people, and they honor her. Still, there are many chieftains with large families with many sons who questioned the choices of our priestesses.”

“To question the priestesses is to question the Cailleach herself.”

Cormag stroked his hand across my stomach. “Perhaps. Not all feel that way. Some believe the priestesses have their own agenda, and ambition outweighs belief when convenient. But our little ones… They will never be alone, and they will never be without their mother and father,” he said, kissing my stomach once more. “They will have to run from me. I will haunt their every waking moment out of love and drown them in it.”

“I cannot think of a better way to be overcome,” I said with a smile, thinking of my own stiff feelings toward Morfudd, who often forgot I existed when I was a girl.

Cormag touched my cheek where I had a tiny sliver of a scar from the arrow’s fletching. He kissed me and then whispered in my ear. “And would my queen consent to be overcome tonight?”

“Only if your feet aren’t cold,” I replied jokingly.

Cormag kissed my neck again, and again, and again, stirring up a deep longing in me. “Then there is nothing to fear. When I am done with you, nothing will be cold.”

With that, we were both lost in a blur of love.

The winter passed in quiet. We prepared for our children's birth, Fabius educated me in all things Roman politics—including far more gossip than I could ever want or need—and language, and we began making our plans for the Brigantes for spring. The first icicles had begun to melt when I stood over a map of my father’s construction plans. Conall had just finished explaining the work and the men and funds needed to accomplish it.

“The old fort is well-protected by walls and turrets, but the expansion… The walls my father planned were well-thought, but if we were to add watchtowers,” I said, pointing to the north, west, and east, “it would increase the security of the city overall.”

Conall nodded. “Well thought. Your father wanted a gate to the north, but I often thought it ill-advised. He was thinking of trade. I was thinking of war. I say we stem the flow of traffic into the city through a single, well-protected gate.”

“Yes. I agree,” I said.

Conall nodded, then rolled up the map. “I will begin acquiring supplies and men.”

“Thank you, Conall. Any sign of Corva?” I asked. The priestess had left a few days prior, having deemed the road for Mydils passable. I wasn’t sure if she was aching for news or had a specific reason to go to the fort, but either way, the moment the news came that the road was traversable, she had departed.

“No, my queen, but the first traders have started to come in. I am sure she will be back soon.”

“And the king consort?”

Conall laughed. “Last I saw him and his men, they were up to their elbows in mud and thatch.” Cormag had been in the courtyard that morning when a boy came from the village asking for help. The weight of the melting snow had caused the roof of the home of an aged widow to collapse. Cormag, Brodi, and Damhan had gone with supplies to help with the rebuilding.

I chuckled. “Very well,” I said, then looked down at Fergus. “And you let them go without you—including Beef and Scratch.”

Fergus’s tail thumped as he gazed at me adoringly.

“Silly dog.”

“Not to worry, my queen. Soon, spring flowers will be pushing through the snow, the Brigantes will meet their heirs, and you will be back in the saddle and out joining them on adventures once more.”

“I hope that day comes soon,” I said, touching my very round stomach.

“My mother always used to say a babe was easier to care for in than out,” Conall replied with a laugh. “I expect with two, it will be doubly true. My queen,” he said, bowing to me, then departed.

With a sigh, I returned to my workbench and lifted and lowered papers. Perhaps it was the impending birth or maybe just the fact that Corva and Cormag were gone and I was stuck in the fort, but I felt anxious. My eyes flicked to the woven map of Brigantes lands that hung on the wall. The feeling that something was happening just beyond my view nagged at me.

Feeling agitated, I went to the other end of the room and sat in one of the comfortable chairs.

The moment I did so, the memory of Eddin and me drinking ourselves near unconscious in the wake of my mother’s death came to my mind. And with it, the memory of Eddin’s words. I sat for a long moment with my hands on my stomach. How much my life had changed. In a year, everything had been rearranged. Venu was lost to me. Eddin was a king. And I… I was queen of my people, wife of Cormag of the Votadini, and my children would soon join this world.

And yet… The echo of Eddin’s confession found me once more, and the shadow of it lingered in my heart. I had gone all winter without news of my old friend. I had no notion of how the Dardani were faring. Had Eddin retaken his seat without complication? Were the Carvetti chieftains giving him any trouble? Had he…found someone to warm his bed in the dead of winter.

The last thought filled me with an unfair sense of jealousy.

I rose again and went to my desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment and a quill. I could not physically go check on Eddin, but I could inquire. I should ask—to his welfare, the welfare of his people, the behavior of his neighbors—but not to his bed partners. In wedding Cormag, I had given up any say over that, forever. But my quill hesitated when I began to share with Eddin the news of my impending birth. Somehow, telling him felt… Well, I didn’t know what. I did not want to injure him with my news, but I would also not have him learn it from another.

So, I began writing. First to Eddin, then to Venu, then to Ystradwel. With all three, I shared that the Brigantes would soon have an heir. As I turned my hand to write to Ystradwel, I considered how the winter would have passed for her. She would have mourned her father while working hard to gain control of her tribe. How had that gone? There had been no word. I penned my notes and then opened my door to look for Kamden, only to find a mud-covered Brodi… and Beef, who looked decidedly less inconvenienced than his master, on the other side.

“Brodi?”

“Queen Cartimandua,” he said with a bow. “Prince Cormag has sent me for additional supplies and to let you know several houses in the village need repair. The prince will not return until late. He begs your forgiveness.”

“Thank you. Take what you need. And is my king in the same condition as his friend?” I asked with a laugh, gesturing at the mud.

“Doubly so,” Brodi replied, attempting to wipe grime from his cheek only to spread it on more thickly with his dirty hand.

I laughed. “Good. Then that means he is working hard.”

“He is.”

“Take whatever is needed. The men can send along another wagon of supplies into the village.”

“Thank you.”

“And stop by the kitchen. Ask them to send some food.”

Brodi gave me a bow and turned to go, only to find Fabius gaping at him. Fabius pulled back the hem of his cloak to prevent it from touching Brodi’s muddy body. He gave Brodi a mock disgusted look and clicked his tongue at him.

Brodi grunted in reply then departed.

“Queen Cartimandua,” Fabius said with a sigh, “how do you ever survive with such ruffians about? You are such a refined, intelligent, and beautiful lady. You should be in a villa in Capri draped in silk and sunshine, not mucking about with warriors, swords, and mud,” he said, sidestepping muddy tracks on the floor.

“Perhaps in my next life.”

“Touché. I have a lesson for you today, my dear. Today, I will teach you about the goddess Diana, a moon goddess, just like yourself,” he said with a smile.

“Very well. I’ll deliver these to Kamden and then return.”

“After you ask the servants for a tray of sweets and mead?”

I chuckled. “Yes. After that.”

Fabius smiled and then went to his favorite spot on the workbench. “I will be waiting.”

Leaving Fabius, I left the workroom to find Kamden in the great dining room, overseeing a deep cleaning of the space.

“Are we expecting someone?” I asked, my eyes flicking briefly to the flagstones where my mother had crumpled to her death. I looked away, turning back to Kamden.

The housecarl smiled. “Two someones, my queen,” he said, gesturing to my round belly. “And with them, every chieftain in Brigantes lands, and maybe a king or two.”

“Onnen says it may be another moon, you know.”

“Onnen does not see you daily as we do, my queen. It hurts nothing to be ready,” he said, looking at the messages in my hand. “May I be of assistance?”

I nodded. “Riders, please. The snow may still be deep to the north, but I will not delay gathering news.”

“I will see to them,” he said, taking the notes from me.

“Fabius would like a tray of sweets and mead sent to the workroom,” I told Kamden, who chuckled.

“That man is made of sugar and alcohol.”

I laughed, then paused. “Are they baking onion bread?”

“Indeed. With a heady cheese.”

“Hmm,” I mused. “I am not made of sweets and alcohol, but since there are no walnuts to be found, onion bread…” I said, giving the housecarl a wink, then went to the kitchen. There, I discovered several loaves set to cool. While the cooks were busy, one of the kitchen boys was working at the counter where the bread was resting. I grabbed one loaf, gave the boy a knowing wink, and then went up the back stairs. Following a path on the narrow hallways, I finally found myself at Verbia’s door.

Knocking lightly, I entered to find the old woman sitting by her window, her shutters opened, knitting.

She looked up at me.

“I have bread. Stolen right out from under their noses. Care to partake in filched goods with me?”

She gave me a wry smile and pointed to the chair across from her own as she set aside her sewing. Breaking the loaf in half, I gave a part to Verbia and kept the rest for myself. The bread steamed in the cool air wafting from the window. I stuffed a bite in my mouth, sighing contentedly as the tastes of chives, cheese, and yeast melted on my tongue.

“So good,” I said, taking another bite.

“Yes,” Verbia agreed, chewing happily.

I paused, arching an eyebrow at her, then merely giggled. “I won’t tell the cooks their craft was enough to get you to speak. We will not survive their ego afterward.”

At that, we both laughed, then sat and ate in happy silence.