Page 2 of Taming the Eagle
“I’ll talk to the chieftain if that’s what you want,” she told her father. “But I won’t wed him.”
“You will,” her father shot back, his face twisting. “I’ve already agreed to it.”
Fenella went still. “What?”
Bricius glared at her. “The man saved my life in battle five years ago … and in thanks, I told him that if he ever wanted a favor, he could have it.” His expression hardened further still. “He wants you.”
Fenella drew in a deep breath, and then another, in an attempt to push back the red haze of rage that obscured her vision.
Her father had traded her away, as a ‘favor’? She couldn’t believe she was hearing this. Around the hearth, her four siblings had all stopped eating and were watching the exchange between their eldest sister and father with rapt attention.
“A handfasting between our family and Toutorix’s will do us all good,” her father continued, scowling deeply now. “The last two winters have been harsh … when you wed the chieftain, we shall move to his crannog at Loch Tatha and share his riches.” He paused then, his jaw bunching. “Your brothers and sisters will have full bellies for the first time in years.”
Fenella stared back at him.
The Reaper take him, her father was a cunning bastard. He knew he couldn’t rely on her obeying his word, but Fenella was protective over her siblings, and he was attempting to get to her that way.
Without another word, she spun on her heel and left the roundhouse, stooping through the open door and exiting into bright sunlight.
“Be back by mid-afternoon, Fen,” Bricius roared after her.
Spitting a curse, she stalked to the nearby hut, where her family stored their weapons and tools, and retrieved her yew bow and quiver of hazel arrows. Then she slipped from the wooden perimeter that encircled her family’s home.
Bricius and his kin resided in a steep valley, not far from a rushing river. Tall pines that climbed the valley’s rocky sides loomed overhead, and wispy clouds raced across a pale sky. The roar of the wind in the trees and the gurgle of the river were familiar and reassuring sounds.
Nevertheless, they didn’t soothe Fenella today. Instead, her fury burned like a stoked ember in her belly.
Her father was trying to cage her, but she wouldn’t allow it.
Her heart lay with a man from a neighboring village. Her family also hailed from there, but Fenella’s father had left years earlier after an altercation, and had severed all ties since. Bricius was a man who didn’t like to be questioned, who demanded obedience. But she wouldn’t be cowed as her mother had been.
Fenella clenched her jaw. When threatening hadn’t worked, the weasel had resorted to manipulation.
Wading through the burn, she let her anger burn hot, forging an iron resolve within her.
He wouldn’t succeed. Eogan was almost a man now, and the others were already big enough to help in the fields. There was a gap of four years between Fenella and her brother, as Mona had birthed two stillborn babes in that time. As such, much responsibility had fallen on Fenella’s shoulders over the years. But not anymore.
Today, everything would change. It was time to strike out, to begin afresh.
“Stick your promise to the chieftain up your arse, old man,” she snarled to the rushing wind. “I won’t be coming back.”
Fenella knew the route to the meeting place well. Roughly every seven days, over the past year, she’d walked this path through a wide vale carpeted in dark pines. It was a risky route, for it took her a little too close to the fort of Ardoch—a huge stronghold near the banks of the River Knaik. She’d never set eyes on the fort, for only a fool would wander within sight of that place; nonetheless, the only other path she knew led around the northern edge of the pinewood and would take her twice as long to reach her destination.
Dressed in hunting leathers, Fenella blended in with her surroundings. She moved swiftly, her bare feet whispering over the crunchy bed of dried pine needles.
Along the way, she silently fumed.
She’d made her decision, yet her father’s behavior still rankled. She couldn’t believe he’d promised her to the chieftain without consulting her.
A chill wind rushed through the pines, whipping strands of hair into Fenella’s eyes. She wore her hair in a thick braid that bounced between her shoulder blades as she strode out, yet the wind tore tendrils free.
Usually, when she walked this path, Fenella’s gaze swept left and right, scanning the trees for trouble. Her hunter’s instincts were well-honed, her eyesight sharp, and her hearing keen. But today she had trouble concentrating; instead, she stared straight ahead, her thoughts turning inward. Her father’s words rang in her ears, causing outrage to pulse within her.
And as such, she didn’t hear the hoofbeats at first.
It was only when a company of men on horseback emerged from the trees to her left that she realized she wasn’t alone in the pinewood.
Skidding to a halt, Fenella froze like a hind in a hunter’s sight. Silver, bronze, and gold gleaming in the pale sun, crimson cloaks billowing in the wind, the Roman patrol made straight for her. Bits jangled, and leather creaked.