Page 122 of Queen of the Hollow Hills

“You are not wanted here,” I told her.

Môd did not respond. Instead, she continued her work, stirring and brewing by the fire. Finally, she came to my bedside with a steaming cup.

“Your head and heart ache. This will help ease the pain.”

“I want nothing from you.”

Môd sat on my bedside and stared off into the darkness. “I am sorry, Cartimandua, for the loss of your daughters. I will not placate you as others have done and tell you it was a sad coincidence. My mistress is a hard ruler. She gives and takes as she sees fit. And while I would not have you blame yourself for the loss of your children, I did warn you. But in truth, there is no one to impute but the Cailleach. She took your girls. I understand your hard heart, and I beg your forgiveness for my hand in the matter. Now, drink. It will ease your mind.”

“I do not wish my mind to be eased.Iam the reason my daughters are dead.Iam the reason my husband walked into an ambush and died, and along with him, good and loyal men. It ismyfault. I am born to suffer and bring death to those I love.”

“Perhaps we are all born to suffer. But if you drink this,” Môd said, “it will lessen the pain a little, because born to suffer or not, your people need you. You are a Brigantes queen. Rome is on the move, and your western coast is burning. You do not serve your people by lying in this bed. Get up, Cartimandua. You owe your husband your vengeance.”

With that, she left me in silence.

I lay there for a time, watching the steam lift off the mug.

Finally, I sat up. My head was pounding. I could not remember the last time I had drunk or eaten anything. My body was feeling weak from sorrow. I lifted the cup and drank.

Forcing myself to take sip after sip, I finished the brew and then stared into the fire.

I would need to arrange for Cormag’s burial. Unless… No. The Votadini sent their dead to the pyre. I would send my husband to the Otherworld in the manner that suited him best.

I closed my eyes, pressing my fingers on my closed eyelids, trying to numb the throbbing pain behind my eyes.

After a time, however, the pain in my head subsided.

Rising, I pulled on a dark robe and splashed water on my face. Opening the shutters, I looked outside. It was still dark, but I could sense the morning air. I went to the door, surprising the guard outside.

“My queen,” Mael Coluim said. “Forgive me. I did not realize you were awake.”

“Do not wake Hilda, but send to the kitchens and see if any of the maids are about. I would have hot water.”

“My queen,” the man said with a nod, then motioned for one of the boys to hurry off.

I turned and went back inside. My body hurt. I felt like a ghost myself. I went to my wardrobe and pulled out a black gown, laying it on the bed. Not long afterward, there was a knock on the door.

On the other side, I found the guard and one of the kitchen boys carrying buckets of hot water. Along with them was Alba, the cook for the fort.

“Queen Cartimandua,” Alba said. She carried a large platter in her hands. On it, she had laden all my favorite foods.

“Alba.”

“A little something, my queen,” she said, looking at the food.

I stepped aside so they may enter.

Alba set the platter down then went to the other side of the room and pulled out my washing tub. “Here,” she told the men. “Pour it in, then run and fetch the other buckets.”

“Really, Alba, this is not your duty and?—”

“Queen Cartimandua, there is no one in this fort who does not love you. Let us see to you now.”

With that, the servants readied the bath.

“Now, I can stay and scrub behind your ears, but I’m afraid I’m better with turnips than queens,” she told me.

“Thank you, Alba. I can manage.”

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