Time of the Celts: A Time Travel Romance (Hadrian's Wall Book 1) Page 2

  Comfortable in his perch on top of the wall under the tree – and completely without the need for food or rest — Breth sipped from his water skin all night, waiting to see how close to sunrise it was when these dozen guards went in and a dozen fresh guards came out.

  Once he had observed all he felt he needed to, Breth took from a small bag attached to his water skin the hammer and chisel his brother Talorc had made at the forge in their far-off village home and got to work drawing symbols into the top row of stones in the wall.

  He didn’t always chisel exactly the same sequence of pictures, but it was a version of the same story any other self-respecting Pictish Celt would have carved in the savages’ wall, given the opportunity. His pictures told how the invaders had come and driven the Picts and the other Celts of these islands so far north that there was barely any arable land. They showed the stories of all the Celtic resistances, each raid on the impostors south of the wall pictured out in curly symbols. His carvings boasted how the impostors owed the Picts in particular a great debt for all the land they had claimed for themselves alone, and symbolically Breth promised that one day, the invaders would be made to repay this debt.

  As did every stone carver, Breth added his own personal touch. He chiseled out in graphic detail how the impostors had taken the life of his dear Caitlin. And just as graphically, he portrayed all the ways he would avenge her.

  Breth was in the middle of creating an especially beautiful flourish of bush leaves around his face at his favorite lookout point when he realized the mistake he had made in getting too involved in his storytelling.

  Two arrows came whistling toward him, and more had been loosed but gone astray, judging by the sounds he heard. The next volley likely wouldn’t miss.

  Cursing, he jumped down from the wall with his tools in his hands and turned to run back up the hill — only to find the entire dozen guards coming around the end of the wall at the gate opening.

  Casting the tools aside, Breth reached overhead and grabbed his large two-handed sword out of the sheath he wore on his back as he ran up the hill to the first break in the bushes. Once he got through, he turned and jumped on top of the first guard, who was forced to come at him alone, so narrow was the passage.

  Duly surprised, the first guard fell, creating a barrier for his fellows and buying Breth time to run up the hill to his next pre-selected ambush point. And so on it went until he neared the top.

  Cursing at himself again for getting carried away with his stone carving and losing track of the bigger plan ― scout out the fort now and come back with all the fighters in the clan later ― Breth prematurely pulled the rope that loosed the stones he and his clan had stockpiled up here. They were intended for a raid, but now he was wasting them on a personal escape after a scouting trip that had already been over.

  Disappointed that he couldn’t take the time to look over his shoulder and see how many barbarians he killed with his avalanche, Breth dove off the other side of the hill into a river and swam away.

  Three

  At home the evening after her skirmish with chubby grandpa, Jaelle guzzled a few beers. She needed to work up the courage to go through the boxes John had left in the basement of the house they were going to share together in their married life — before he found another woman and ran off. Amid all this clutter, maybe there was something valuable that she could sell. Hopefully she wouldn’t find some other woman’s lingerie. Ew.

  She was opening the first box when her phone buzzed. It was one of her and John’s old friends.

  Should she answer?

  It was Amber, Jaelle’s oldest woman friend she still kept in touch with. Amber had gone to Scotland in order to hopefully get back together with Tomas, who was John’s uncle and another of Jaelle’s old friends.

  And if Amber had good news about that?

  Ug. If Amber was back together with Tomas, Jaelle didn’t want to suffer through hearing all about it.

  She had just decided to ignore the call when out of habit, her finger hit ‘answer.’

  And man oh Manischewitz, Amber’s story was even worse than Jaelle feared.

  Amber gave her a romantic story about traveling into the past with her old boyfriend Tomas, saving the man from the enchanting spell of a druidess — and then getting married to him. They were married.

  She went on.

  And on.

  And on.

  Amber and Kelsey and some friends of theirs had a quadruple wedding. And of course John had attended. With his new woman. Who was ‘gorgeous in that old-fashioned kind of way, you know, emphasizing femininity and dependence on a man.’

  Gag.

  Jaelle make choking sounds.

  But there was no getting through to Amber. She didn’t even miss a beat.

  “Yeah, the Scottish skies were sunny for once, and we had a beautiful old time wedding on the cliff overlooking the Irish Sea—and then we all high-tailed it back here to the present.”

  How dare Amber go on and on and on about this?

  She knew how brokenhearted Jaelle was over losing her precious Tomas’s nephew of the same age as him, John.

  Amber’s inconsideration chuffed, and so Jaelle lashed out at her oldest friend. But it wasn’t Jaelle’s way to be direct. She didn’t just tell Amber ‘Quit being rude.’ No. She wanted it to slowly sink in, to gradually dawn on her friend that she was being rude.

  That way, the guilt would go in deeper.

  And so Jaelle nit-picked Amber’s wedding story, pointing out things for Amber to worry about — in the hope that she would be very worried, indeed. That it would rain on her parade. Ruin her fun. Spoil her oh-so-sunshiny mood.

  “But no one in the present knew you were married, and no time had passed in order for you to get married in. How did you deal with that?”

  Amber laughed.

  That wasn’t the reaction Jaelle hoped for, but good that Amber was finally going to quit being so darn romantic and maybe even give her friend some much-needed sympathy. Maybe this was better.

  Looking forward to some actual companionship and a figurative shoulder to cry on, Jaelle spoke up hopefully.

  “Must be thinking of a good story.”

  “No, no. I was laughing because I splattered some nail polish.”

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  “Huh?”

  “It could’ve gotten on the pillowcase if it weren’t for this paper towel, and at first I was really upset, you know? But I was laughing because it occurred to me that with the amount Mr. Blair is paying me for helping Kelsey out with her cataloging system for the archaeological dig here, I could buy a thousand pillowcases, so what am I worried about?”

  Yeah, what was Amber worried about? Certainly not about bragging she had more money than Jaelle would ever see. Or that Amber had married her longtime boyfriend when Jaelle had lost hers. Or about how Amber was really fulfilled in the work that she was doing while Jaelle still worked an entry level job at the museum.

  Yeah, guilting Amber was so much better an idea.

  Jaelle laughed a sarcastic ‘ha ha’ kind of laugh, expecting Amber to say ‘what?’ and then realize what a terrible friend she was being.

  But Amber was so full of herself right now she didn’t hear the ironic part and laughed along in pleasure.

  Feh. Time for some directness.

  Before words came out that might be regretted later. Maybe.

  Jaelle cleared her throat.

  Amber snorted.

  “Okay, okay, I’ll get back to my story. I know you don’t want to hear about nail polish―”

  Wanna bet? Without the money bragging, that would be much better than your wedding story.

  But Amber went on, still full of herself.

  “We made our marriage legal two days after we got back to the present. We just flew back home and saw a justice of the peace.”

  Once more, Jaelle tried sarcasm.

  “Aw, that’s too bad—”

  But Amber was
oblivious.

  “No, I wanted it that way. Over and done with as quickly as possible so we could get on with married life, already—”

  Maybe it was the beer talking, but at that, Jaelle burst into a loud peal of genuine laughter.

  Amber growled at her playfully.

  “Oh, would you get your mind out of the gutter for once? My family were all there to witness my happiness, and getting married to Tomas was all that really mattered to me. It wasn’t about the dress, or the ring, or having to dance to a certain song at a reception, cutting the cake, throwing the bouquet, riding in a limousine, or picking out bridesmaids’ dresses. It was about declaring in front of witnesses our intention to spend the rest of our lives together as husband and wife.”

  Ugh.

  Way to ruin the happy mood.

  Could Amber be any more selfishly chipper? Time to rain on her parade again. She was at work and couldn’t get away, right? A good dig at that might snap some sense into the selfish brat ― whose company Jaelle desperately wanted, she knew deep down, or she would have just told her friend off and hung up.

  “Did you at least get a honeymoon?”

  To her credit, Amber paused a bit, showing that she’d heard at least a little of Jaelle’s tone. But then she droned on again about how happy she was.

  “Tavish & Kelsey and Seumas & Sasha had plane tickets to Hawaii already, so they were all gone for two weeks. Me and Tomas were bummed we couldn’t go along — until Mr. Blair showed up with the motorboat he’d been promising everyone.”

  And that did it. Jaelle burst into tears. Whenever she did that, her nose ran. She blew it on her T-shirt.

  “Wow, cool.”

  Amber blathered on some more, obviously unaware of the pain she was causing. Because Amber wasn’t mean, just recently married and deliriously happy.

  Feh.

  “You can say that again. The motorboat has a cabin and everything, and when he heard we just got married, he let us take it over to Ireland for a week, all by ourselves. We docked at a different port every night and went sight-seeing every day, not to mention all the pub crawling we did. Couldn’t have planned a better honeymoon if I tried. —And like I said before, on Tuesday we’re headed ‘down unda’ to Australia to learn the business end of the faire. When I hear myself say that, I just can’t believe it. I get Tomas, and the faire in Australia, and Dall and Emily back as my friends… All my dreams are coming true!”

  Jaelle had several sarcastic remarks on the tip of her tongue, but she was all choked up with tears and couldn’t speak.

  Finally, Amber caught a clue and showed some sympathy for an old friend who had been heartbroken by the love of her life.

  “Listen to me, going on about how happy Tomas and I are. How are you doing? I can’t believe you and John stayed together these past seven years only to break up right before your wedding. Really, how are you doing?”

  Jaelle sniffled.

  “Thanks for shutting up about you and Tomas. Now shut up about me and John.” She laughed a little. An awkward laugh.

  But it was going to be okay.

  Amber laughed a little too, in empathy, which was the desired effect.

  “Sorry. That was really stupid of me. All of it. What kind of friend am I?”

  Jaelle heaved a heavy sigh and wiped her tears away with another part of her T-shirt, blew her nose again, then took it off and threw it in the washing machine. Casting about for something else to put on while it was in there, she found a weird tunic thing in the box and put that on. At least it was clean.

  “No, I get it. And I’m really happy for you and Tomas. You’re both great people, and I know how in love you are. And I’m one of the few who know why you were apart these past seven years. I know you never really broke up. I know Tomas disappeared from your life to protect you from the heartbreak of having your fourth born son slave for the druids as a time traveler. I know Tomas didn’t know that until his parents told him on his eighteenth birthday. But Amber, Dall and Emily thought they were doing the right thing, you know, not telling him until then. You do know that, right? Because I don’t hate them or John’s parents, and you shouldn’t either.”

  Amber made a humming noise that meant don’t worry.

  “I don’t hate them. I know it’s not their fault. He told me the story about their ancestor with a gambling problem who became beholden to a druid and basically sold his descendants into slavery — uh oh, I hope I’m not saying something you don’t already know.” Amber laughed her exaggerated nervous laugh.

  Jaelle opened another beer and took a big swig. It soothed her throat, which was sore from crying.

  “Yeah, that story. I bet it was a lot easier for you to believe than it was for me, since you got to go back in time and everything. I’m having trouble believing your story, and I’ve known the gambling story for seven years now.”

  Jaelle laughed again, and this time there was actually joy in it.

  “Heh,” said Amber, “I wouldn’t believe my story if I hadn’t lived it, so I know what you mean. But here we are talking about me again. I really want to know if you’re okay, and if there’s anything I can do to help you. I’m not even above going over and giving John a piece of my mind, if that will help…”

  Jaelle talked with Amber a while longer about the guys they’d hung out with back when they were all in their teens.

  While she did, she drank two more beers and dug through John’s boxes. They held mostly junk, but a round iron object caught her attention. She dug for it through a bunch of other stuff.

  Wow. It looked like one of the helmets the Roman soldiers wore in the old drawings in some of the history books in the library.

  “What was that?” Amber asked.

  “Oh sorry. I told you John let me keep his house after he broke off our engagement, right?”

  “Yeah, you did. And you have to admit, that was really nice of him. Most guys wouldn’t even let you keep the ring.”

  Jaelle snorted a laugh and sloshed the beer she was drinking.

  “It’s not like he’s still paying the rent. I’m paying it on my own, when we had planned on splitting it or him paying most of it with the money from the family antique business. No, it wasn’t nice of him. Not really. It was more like he couldn’t be bothered to move all this junk out and left it to me to deal with. Anyway, I’m going through the boxes, and I found one thing that is really cool. Here, I’ll take a picture of it.”

  Jaelle texted it to Amber and finished her beer. She went to the bag to get another one, but there weren’t any left. Feh.

  Amber sounded impressed.

  “Wow, that is cool.”

  Oh yeah, the helmet.

  “Isn’t it? Here, I’m going into video chat to try it on so you can see.”

  Amber laughed.

  “Okay.”

  As soon as she switched into video chat, Jaelle marveled at her friend’s appearance for a moment. Amber had been on this Goth chick kick for the last few years. It had saddened Jaelle whenever Amber went into video chat to show her the dig she had been working in Mexico. Big skull earrings. White makeup that didn’t look good on her olive skin. Black lipstick and black eye makeup.

  But now that her friend had married the love of her life, the only thing still the same was Amber’s gorgeous long black hair. Well, and the amber colored eyes her parents had named her for. She looked normal now, and happy.

  After only a moment of pondering this, Jaelle’s excitement at finding the helmet resumed. She set the phone down and ran around in front of the camera.

  “Are you watching? I can’t tell.”

  “Yeah, I can see you.”

  Jaelle held the helmet up over her head.

  “Here goes.”

  Four

  Breth swam far enough north of the barbarian fort and wall that he felt safe on land, then climbed up onto the rocky shore and shook out his short hair. He found a spot where the early morning sun hit the rocks and sat down to let it dry h
im — which shouldn’t take long, as apart from the blue clay designs, he was wearing only his boots and the sword sheathed on his back.

  Yesterday morning at sunrise, the druids of his clan had ritually painted his entire body with woad-dyed clay patterns before he went scouting their people’s greatest enemy, the imposters. Even after his swim, the clay still clung to his skin in most places, and while the sun dried him, he amused himself by rippling his muscles and watching a horse dance on his calf.

  Once his skin was dry, he started through the woods toward home. His heavy leather boots squished with each step, but overall he was warm and comfortable.

  He was walking and not quite whistling but enjoying himself and the accomplishment of having scouted out the fort ― when he tripped over something.

  He gasped.

  That something was a person.

  A female person.

  Nevertheless, she was a stranger, and even more so, a stranger wearing a Roman helmet. So he drew his sword and trained it on her.

  But then she astonished him.

  Before he could say anything, she was lighting into him with words in his own language. But what rendered him speechless was that he had never heard a woman use the particular words she was using. Quite graphic words.

  While he stood there marveling at this, he wondered.

  Her accent, tone, and slang were identical to his, as if the two of them had grown up together.

  But he had never seen her before, nor heard anyone like her spoken about.

  It was odd to the point of being impossible. Especially the part about her wearing a barbarian helmet. And aside from being unfamiliar to him, she was outright strange anyway. Her hair was shorter than any woman’s he had ever seen: only down to her shoulders. She had on tight blue leggings instead of a skirt. And in addition to the helmet, she was wearing an invader’s tunic.

  Perhaps she was some savage’s consort. Some savage who had amused himself by cutting off most of her hair…

  Shockingly, the thought of anyone harming her upset him, so he abandoned it.