where the hide did not quite meet the sides of the doorway. The air that crept through the openings was cold and fresh and it hinted at dampness.
Calgaich looked down at her. “There are men beyond the ring stones,” he whispered to her.
“Who are they, fian?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know."
“Could they be friends?”
He laughed shortly. “Not likely. Well know soon enough. They must realize we are in here.”
Calgaich thrust aside the hide covering and stepped out into the cold gray light of the dawn. Soft glistening snow had fallen during the night. It covered the hills and capped the distant mountains behind the hills. Each of the ring stones had its own grotesque gnome’s cap of pure white.
Calgaich walked into the center of the ring of stones as a man moved quickly behind one of them. Dim, cloaked figures stood beyond the stones. There were many of them.
“They are afraid to come within the Holy Ring,” Calgaich said over his shoulder in a low voice.
“Thank the gods for that.” Cairenn blinked at the early morning light but could see nothing beyond the ring stones.
Calgaich reversed his spear and held it butt-upward in the sign of peace. “It works both ways,” he said quietly. “They won’t come within the Holy Ring, but we in turn can’t go beyond it.”
“Then let us stay here in safety, fian,” Cairenn pleaded.
He shook his head. “With no food? Melted snow for drinking? Hardly enough fuel left for another cold night? No, woman, we must deal with them. There is no other way.”
He walked toward the largest of the ring stones, behind which the stranger stood. He rested the tip of his spear on the flagstones.
“Calgaich mac Lellan,” a strangely accented voice spoke from behind the ring stone.
“You know me?” Calgaich asked.
“You’re a long way from the country of the Novantae.”
“I’ve just returned here from Eriu.”
“A strange place to spend your first night in Albu.”
“We had no choice. Our birlinn was taken by the sea. Who are you?”
The man moved into the space between two of the stones, but he did not step within the ring. He leaned on his war spear and studied Calgaich.
Cairenn turned her face away to avoid looking at the stranger. She knew now why his tongue sounded so strange. The man’s face below the rim of his low-pulled helmet was tattooed like the faces of the fierce Picts she had seen the day before. His broad spear blade was dark with drying blood from tip to socket.
“Aengus of the Broad Spear,” Calgaich greeted the Pict. There was no warmth in his tone.
The Pict grinned, revealing uneven yellowed teeth. “Well met, Calgaich. It has been a long time since we fought the Red Crests together.”
Calgaich looked at the bloody spear. “That is not Roman blood on your blade.”
Aengus shook his head. Then he noticed Cairenn standing in the entrance of the cave. It was as though he were trying to pierce through the cloak to eye each intimate detail of her nakedness. Others of the Picts moved in closer to the ring of stones. Their wolfish gazes studied the woman, the tall warrior and his fine weapons. There were at least a score of them. Beyond them the sky was lightening and across it lay a thick scarf of rising smoke like coarse gray hair lying across faded blue linen.
Calgaich again spoke over his shoulder to Cairenn. “They have probably raided one of the raths in the great glen. They must have struck before the dawn and are likely returning to their boats. It is their custom to attack just before the dawn.”
“And yours, Novantae,” Aengus added. He had ears like a hunting wolf.
Beyond the Picts were piles of loot on the fresh snow. Ten or twelve younger women stood herded together, guarded by one of the raiders. Evidently the Picts did not know of Calgaich's attack on the Pictish reiving craft. Perhaps they came from different clans. Yet it was hardly possible that two such raiding bands would be operating so closely together
Calgaich looked down at her. “There are men beyond the ring stones,” he whispered to her.
“Who are they, fian?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know."
“Could they be friends?”
He laughed shortly. “Not likely. Well know soon enough. They must realize we are in here.”
Calgaich thrust aside the hide covering and stepped out into the cold gray light of the dawn. Soft glistening snow had fallen during the night. It covered the hills and capped the distant mountains behind the hills. Each of the ring stones had its own grotesque gnome’s cap of pure white.
Calgaich walked into the center of the ring of stones as a man moved quickly behind one of them. Dim, cloaked figures stood beyond the stones. There were many of them.
“They are afraid to come within the Holy Ring,” Calgaich said over his shoulder in a low voice.
“Thank the gods for that.” Cairenn blinked at the early morning light but could see nothing beyond the ring stones.
Calgaich reversed his spear and held it butt-upward in the sign of peace. “It works both ways,” he said quietly. “They won’t come within the Holy Ring, but we in turn can’t go beyond it.”
“Then let us stay here in safety, fian,” Cairenn pleaded.
He shook his head. “With no food? Melted snow for drinking? Hardly enough fuel left for another cold night? No, woman, we must deal with them. There is no other way.”
He walked toward the largest of the ring stones, behind which the stranger stood. He rested the tip of his spear on the flagstones.
“Calgaich mac Lellan,” a strangely accented voice spoke from behind the ring stone.
“You know me?” Calgaich asked.
“You’re a long way from the country of the Novantae.”
“I’ve just returned here from Eriu.”
“A strange place to spend your first night in Albu.”
“We had no choice. Our birlinn was taken by the sea. Who are you?”
The man moved into the space between two of the stones, but he did not step within the ring. He leaned on his war spear and studied Calgaich.
Cairenn turned her face away to avoid looking at the stranger. She knew now why his tongue sounded so strange. The man’s face below the rim of his low-pulled helmet was tattooed like the faces of the fierce Picts she had seen the day before. His broad spear blade was dark with drying blood from tip to socket.
“Aengus of the Broad Spear,” Calgaich greeted the Pict. There was no warmth in his tone.
The Pict grinned, revealing uneven yellowed teeth. “Well met, Calgaich. It has been a long time since we fought the Red Crests together.”
Calgaich looked at the bloody spear. “That is not Roman blood on your blade.”
Aengus shook his head. Then he noticed Cairenn standing in the entrance of the cave. It was as though he were trying to pierce through the cloak to eye each intimate detail of her nakedness. Others of the Picts moved in closer to the ring of stones. Their wolfish gazes studied the woman, the tall warrior and his fine weapons. There were at least a score of them. Beyond them the sky was lightening and across it lay a thick scarf of rising smoke like coarse gray hair lying across faded blue linen.
Calgaich again spoke over his shoulder to Cairenn. “They have probably raided one of the raths in the great glen. They must have struck before the dawn and are likely returning to their boats. It is their custom to attack just before the dawn.”
“And yours, Novantae,” Aengus added. He had ears like a hunting wolf.
Beyond the Picts were piles of loot on the fresh snow. Ten or twelve younger women stood herded together, guarded by one of the raiders. Evidently the Picts did not know of Calgaich's attack on the Pictish reiving craft. Perhaps they came from different clans. Yet it was hardly possible that two such raiding bands would be operating so closely together
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