Celtic Fire(40)

“Have ye heard from Edmyg?” she asked, rescuing a delicate bundle of spring greens from his rough hands.

“Aye. He came to the village himself. I had words with him while Claudia fussed over a fisherman’s morning catch.” Cormac set his shoulders under a cask of cervesia and heaved it from the cart and into the kitchen. Bronwyn looked up from tending the oven fires and giggled. Claudia, an enormous Roman woman with strong beefy arms and swarthy skin, frowned at the girl.

“And?” Rhiannon said, following her brother-in-law into the storeroom.

Cormac set the cask on the plank floor. “How fares yer leg?”

“ ’Tis well enough. I’ll be having no problem escaping, if that’s what is worrying ye.”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “Ye’ll nay be leaving just yet.”

“Not leaving? I must!”

“Nay. Edmyg bids ye stay.”

Rhiannon’s mouth dropped open. “Stay?” Bronwyn entered the storeroom and made a great show of scooping a measure of beans from a bin. Rhiannon waited until the girl had returned to the kitchen, then said, “What madness are ye talking?”

Cormac straightened to his full height and peered up at her. “Edmyg is thinking to use yer capture to the clan’s advantage.”

“How so?”

He returned to the cart and laid his hands on a haunch of fresh venison. “He seeks to rally the chieftains for an attack on the fort, but Kynan—” He spit into the dirt. “Kynan cowers like a dog with his tail between his legs. He’s afeared of the fort’s new commander.”

Rhiannon pitched her voice low. “As well he should be. But what has this to do with my escape?”

Cormac hefted the venison and waddled to the rear of the storeroom, well away from the heat of the ovens and the ears of the kitchen women. “The soldiers of Vindolanda are Gauls. Celts. They share one blood with the Brigantes, worship Kernunnos as we do. If they can be persuaded to mutiny when the clans attack, the fort will fall faster than a house of twigs in a gale.”

“Mutiny! They are soldiers of Rome, no matter their ancestry.” She shook her head. “They would pay a grave price for such treachery.”

Cormac grinned, showing a rotten gap in his yellowed teeth. “Every beast has its price. If the bait is set carefully, a meal will be had.”

“What bait could ye have set to turn the garrison against Rome?”

He climbed onto a tottering stool and hung the meat on an iron hook. “Ye need not know. Ye’ve only to play yer part.”

A knot of apprehension settled in Rhiannon’s stomach. “Which is?”

Cormac hoisted himself onto a crate that afforded him the height of a warrior. He leaned back against the wall, folded his arms across his chest and regarded Rhiannon with a hard expression. For an instant, he looked so much like Niall and Edmyg that she almost forgot his deformed body.

“What am I to do?” she whispered.

“Has the Roman taken ye yet?”

“No! Nor will he!”

Cormac regarded her steadily. “He was in yer chamber last night.”

Rhiannon’s hands fisted in her skirt. “And what do ye know of that?”

“I’m a spy, dear sister. ’Tis my business to ken all that passes in my domain.” He leaned toward her, his thick lips curling upward. “Does the Roman’s cock thrust as deep as my dear brother’s did?”

“Ye are a brute,” Rhiannon said, furious. “I have nay lain with Lucius.”

“Lucius, eh? So the Roman allows ye to call him by a name other than ‘master’ while ye spread yer legs, does he?”

Rhiannon clenched her fingers into a ball and swung. Cormac’s stubby arm moved like a blur and caught her wrist.

“What lies have ye told Edmyg?” she said through gritted teeth.

“Only the truth,” Cormac replied. “But dinna fret. Edmyg craves the title of king. He’ll nay be setting his queen aside, no matter who she lies with.”

“ ’Tis I who should be setting him aside! He sowed his seed in Glynis.”

“Five years ye were wed to Niall and ye have no babe to show fer it. When Edmyg weds ye, he will plow a barren field. No one condemns him for seeking a son on a willing woman. Ye’ll nay dare be refusing to join hands with him, I am thinking—he is Niall’s heir and the only warrior fit to lead the Brigantes.”

“There are other warriors,” Rhiannon said tersely.

Cormac shook his head. “None who willna split the tribe in two. Would ye be repeating your grandmother’s folly, lass?”

“ ’Tis not the same at all,” Rhiannon countered. “Cartimandua spurned her king to satisfy her lust. If I reject Edmyg, ’twill be his perfidy, not mine, that causes the rift.”