Page 12 of Time of the Druid (Stones of Scotland #7)
Chapter 12
A fter a night of sleeping on the hard forest floor, without even a single blanket to cushion her from the earth, every inch of Norah’s body ached. But somehow, she still had enough energy to feel a surge of excitement as they crested the hill and the crannog came into view below them.
Matthew had explained in some detail what to expect, and Norah had found it fascinating to hear about. Seeing the reality was even better.
The lord of these lands did not live in a castle—it was thousands of years too early for that—or even a fortified hilltop. Instead, he had chosen a far older kind of defence: water. The heart of his power lay out in the lake, not perched on its edge but surrounded entirely by water, on a human-made island that Matthew had told her was called a ‘crannog.’
From the crest of the hill, the lake gleamed like dark glass, the early morning light glinting off its rippled surface. Mist clung to its edges, veiling the reeds and driftwood like secrets waiting to be revealed. In the middle sat the crannog, a tight cluster of timber buildings huddled together on a platform of thick logs and packed earth. Smoke curled from the thatched roofs, thin and white against the sky.
As they trudged down the slope, dew soaking the hems of their clothes, and boots crunching on the coarse grass, Norah could make out more of the settlement’s detail. The island was connected to the shore by a single, narrow bridge of lashed timbers, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast. It rose slightly at the centre, arched like a spine. Guard-posts stood on either end, their occupants alert but not tense. The bridge itself looked like it could be easily destroyed in a moment’s notice, turning the island into a true stronghold.
Closer now, Norah saw buildings of all sizes and shapes—roundhouses, longhouses, sheds for tools or livestock, walkways slung between them like braided twine. A few chickens strutted along the planks, and in one corner, children ran past a cluster of goats. It wasn’t grand, but it was impressive.
The whole place shimmered with a strange charm, like something from a half-remembered dream. Magical, Norah thought, in the oldest and truest sense of the word. Still, she reminded herself, magic or not, she had seen enough past settlements to know one truth: the inside would almost certainly reek of smoke, sweat, and animals. Beauty, in these places, usually stopped at the threshold.
Matthew introduced himself to the guards who stood on the shore edge of the causeway. They waved the three of them past without showing much interest. This lord must be used to visitors.
Unfortunately, it did not look as if their reception would become any more friendly. At the other end of the causeway, Matthew led them across a small courtyard and into the large roundhouse on the other side. A few people cast them sidelong glances, but no one made any effort to approach or to welcome them. Norah felt her enthusiasm ebbing away second by second. Just as she’d thought—a place like any other. Nothing special.
“Bedwyn,” Matthew called, his voice carrying across the roundhouse. “I’ve come to beg your hospitality.”
The people bustling about the roundhouse—clearing tables, chatting quietly by the central fire—fell silent, all movement slowing as heads turned their way. Norah felt the shift in atmosphere like a change in weather, subtle but unmistakable. The glances weren’t openly hostile, but they weren’t friendly either.
She resisted the urge to step closer to Jack, even though her shoulders had tensed. She didn’t need protection. She’d proved that time and again. Still, she kept her gaze steady, her chin high, as they walked further inside.
“Matthew!” a tall young man exclaimed, striding toward them. “This is indeed an unexpected visit.” His eyes slid sideways and rested on Norah just a little too long. “But a welcome one, all the same. What a delight to see you.”
Norah could immediately see why Matthew did not consider this Bedwyn to be his friend. There was something slimy about the young lord, something distinctly unsettling. He wore his wealth too obviously, with thick bands of gold wrapped around his wrists and neck. His hair, slicked back from his face, was styled to perfection, with more heavy gold hanging from his earlobes. His smile, revealing surprisingly white teeth, did not reach his eyes.
“It’s a delight to see you as well, Bedwyn,” Matthew said, sounding almost sincere. The two men shook hands before Matthew introduced Norah and Jack, skimming over them as if to suggest they were not of any importance. Norah was grateful for that. She didn’t like feeling this lord’s eyes on her.
Thankfully, Bedwyn quickly seemed to lose interest. He waved them off toward a pretty blond woman, all shimmering hair and plump curves, who introduced herself as Fion, Bedwyn’s wife.
“His third wife,” Matthew muttered, and Norah’s eyes widened. Bedwyn was a young man. How had he got through two wives already? Best not to think about it.
Fion showed Norah to a small, single-roomed roundhouse that perched precariously at the farthest edge of the crannog platform, where the wooden planks beneath their feet creaked softly with every step and gaps between the boards revealed the dark glint of water below. The roundhouse was made of tightly woven wattle and daub, its low thatched roof sagging slightly with age, and a thin trail of smoke curling from a narrow hole in the centre. A wooden latch sealed the narrow door, and the only window was a slitted gap covered by a flap of stitched hide. It smelled faintly of moss, damp wood, and old ash. Tucked between two larger structures, the hut felt quiet and oddly secluded—like a place meant to be forgotten.
“I’m afraid this is the only guesthouse still unoccupied,” Fion said anxiously. “Some of my relatives are still here after our wedding feast.”
That recently married, and Bedwyn was already ignoring her? Norah felt a stab of sympathy for the poor young woman.
“I’m sure this will do just fine,” she said reassuringly.
“Jack should stay here to keep an eye on you,” Matthew said. “I’ll bunk in the roundhouse with the warriors.” He leaned in closer. “Don’t trust anyone here,” he warned Norah, softly enough that no one else would hear.
Fion nodded approvingly, clearly not noticing that extra little comment.
“Perfect,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Do you need any help?” She eyed Norah up and down. “A bath, maybe?”
Norah would usually have taken offence at that, but she was tired and dirty, and a bath really did sound delicious.
“That would be delightful,” she said. “Thank you.”
Under Fion’s direction, a team of maidservants filled up a bathtub with freshly heated water. The tub took up almost all of the space in the tiny room, so Jack excused himself and slipped out.
“Go and explore,” Norah told him. “Get a good look at the layout of the crannog. I’ll be safe enough here.”
Alone at last, she sank into the warm water, letting it ease away all the tightness that held her body rigid. God bless Fion for suggesting this. Norah honestly couldn’t remember ever having a better bath. Funny, how it was the simple things in life that mattered the most.
The door, bolted shut, rattled suddenly.
“I’m still in the bath, Jack,” Norah called out.
No reply. And then the door lurched once, twice, as if someone was throwing themselves against it. Not Jack.
Norah reacted instantly, her pulse spiking as fear jolted through her limbs. She surged out of the bath, water sloshing over the sides, her feet slipping slightly on the damp packed earth. A blanket lay crumpled nearby, and she seized it with one hand, wrapping it hastily around her soaked skin. Her other hand reached for the knife tucked beneath her discarded clothes, slick fingers fumbling for the hilt as the door creaked again.
“I have a knife here,” she shouted at the door. “I’m warning you to leave.”
The door rattled one more time and Norah braced herself.
No more movement. She stood there a moment longer, dripping water on the packed earth floor of the roundhouse.
“Norah?” Jack’s voice called from the other side of the door. “Are you alright in there?”
Norah unbolted the door immediately. She ushered Jack inside while she looked wildly around. The door opened onto a tiny area between a few other buildings, so she could see hardly any distance. Her mysterious visitor could be mere feet away and she wouldn’t know it.
“What is it?” Jack asked as Norah bolted the door again. “What happened?”
“Someone tried to get into this house, and I don’t think it was an accident,” Norah said grimly. “Matthew was right. We shouldn’t trust anyone here.”