A Time of Reckoning: Book One Betrayals

By Michelle Simpson

      It is 8th century Ireland and the land is littered with ambitious chieftains and petty kings lobbying for power and status in a time where no one leader has been duly recognized. Devin is the eldest daughter of the petty king, Attus, who dominates the vast north, called Ulaid. Favored by her influential father and having no interest in the crooked path of politics, Devin is allowed to pursue her own course. She chooses the mysterious direction of the healing arts, learning the ancient ways of her Celtic ancestors alongside the druid Oran, a trusted member of their clan and her father's advisor.

 

     In a sudden act of vengeance by their greatest rival, Bram, tragedy befalls their great house and leaves the family shattered and grieving.  Propelled onto a great seat, she must learn to honor her ancient ways in a land dominated by Christianity and men. Jealousy mounts from her sister, Una, a powerful yet petty woman who secretly plots against her. With odds stacking against Devin, she finds partnership and solace with Tristan, a soldier in her father's army, and the man who becomes her lover. Their love is all-consuming, and distracting, as she battles enemies near and far that covet her great seat. 

 

Devin must overcome betrayals, wars and intrigue as she discovers her true strength as a woman and a warrior in a time where no one can be trusted.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michelle Simpson
• Release date: Jun 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201001339

Michelle Simpson

Michelle lives in the Boston, MA area and enjoys anything and everything fitness related, cooking, and traveling. Favorite cities (so far) are London and Montreal. Also an avid animal lover and movie fan.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Devin

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Una stared at her from across a vast field at dawn with an army at her back. A tearing wind, tinged with salt from the sea, blew her sister’s mane of bright auburn hair into tangled halo about her head so that it glowed above her, like a distant fire. A mass of angry men scowled, shouted and banged swords against their shields. Their shrieking set her teeth on edge and made it difficult to get Una’s attention even though she called her name until her voice was no more than a rasp in her throat. When Una finally noticed her she smiled. But it was a tenuous smile that did not reach her eyes. They were emotionless and empty, lacking the predictable glimmer that usually set them alight. Devin scanned the field and began to notice things that had escaped her awareness, like the hundreds of lifeless bodies littering the blood-soaked earth and the acrid, choking smell of smoke burning her nostrils. Fires burned in the distance, and she knew Ravenlough was affected even though her home was miles away. She looked again to Una and her stomach clenched with dread at her blank expression.

Devin’s breathing became shallow and her fingers clutched at the linens rumpled on the bed. She tore her eyes from her sister’s menacing façade and it was then that she became dimly aware that what she saw in her slumber was not real. The deafening battle cries and the heavy rumble of horse’s hooves on the earth were only figments of her imagination, a subliminal message that had taken on a life of its own.

She came awake with a start; heart pounding and mouth dry as cotton. She fumbled at a side table for a cup of water and scowled when she realized it was soured wine. She drank anyway, needing to quench her thirst. Sitting upright, she gazed around her room, not entirely convinced she wouldn’t find Una lurking in a shadowed corner. She was alone. The only sounds in the darkened chamber were the wind hammering against the side of the fortress and her unsteady breathing. It was still early, before dawn, the sun a pale pink light in the sky that peeked through a window.

She exhaled, long and soft, and swung her legs over the bed, placing bare feet onto a cold stone floor. She wrapped a thick robe about her frame and moved to the window she had glanced out a moment before. Resting her forehead against the cold glass she sighed again, trying to rid her mind of the disturbing dream which still clung to the edges of her consciousness. She peered at the simple beauty of the rolling green fields that stretched to the thick forest beyond and a soft smile touched her lips. Two silhouetted figures stood in the distance and she knew that it was her father, Attus, and the captain of his guard. Every morning he was up before dawn checking the perimeter of the forest that lay south of the dangerous mountain border where their fortress stood. Frequent raids had been happening of late, coming from the discontented petty king, Bram, who sought more land, their land, and her father had to step up his sentry posts. She frowned wondering if the raids were a cause for her disrupted rest and terrifying dream.

She was the daughter of Attus, a great warrior and the king of Ulaid. Their family was favored by the current high king of Tara, Aedh, who had recently dispatched a band of his own troops from Munster to help quell the disquiet simmering north of Ulaid in the Dal Riata region. That region still lacked a strong king, a leader like her father. Lesser-kings and chieftains raided each other and squabbled over land, over cattle over anything each deemed they were more deserving of. Except Bram, the restless chieftain responsible for the unrest and the perpetrator of every raid upon their fortress as far back as she could remember. He didn’t want cattle or more land in Dal Riata. He wanted Ravenlough. Bram believed that Ravenlough had been his ancestor’s fort, stolen by her family a hundred years ago. Devin did not know if that was true, but knew that her family was vehement in their belief that it was a lie. She only wanted the bloody raids to end.

She moved away from the window and reached for the same goblet that she had drunk from a moment earlier, deciding to finish its sour contents. As the liquid slid down her throat she became aware of her maid’s movements in the ante chamber. She would only have a few more moments to herself before Nora would quietly knock and accompany her on her morning walk to the sacred oak grove for her morning prayers. She put the cup down and her stomach fluttered in anticipation of the day ahead. Beltane was the next day, the ancient celebration of spring. It was her favorite festival for it meant the days would begin to get longer, the sun burn brighter and that the ceaselessly cold winter was over. The festivities would begin at midday and would not end until well into the night. Huge bonfires would be lit across the meadow and the cattle would be driven between them to bless the spring harvest. The villagers, along with inhabitants from surrounding towns and monastic cities, would feast on sweetmeats, pastries and roast pig. There would be dancing, singing and when the sun dipped low in the sky again, and the children were spent from their day running in the meadow and tucked into their beds, there would be activities of a more carnal sort. On Beltane pleasures of the flesh were acceptable and practiced by many. It had long been believed the coupling of men and women would bring healthy harvests in the coming season. Her household was tolerant of this ancient practice and their resident priest looked the other way, only doing so because he owed his life to her father from a battle a few years back.

She moved soundlessly to a trunk by the bed and reached inside for a clean dress and belt. She would have time later for a bath. No doubt her mother would have her running back and forth all morning in preparation and she would desire the time to soak peacefully before their property was filled with visitors and townspeople.

When Nora knocked a few minutes later, Devin had forgotten that she had even been disturbed by her dream. It had simply become a vague sense of unpleasantness that diminished with every second until she could no longer recall anything except a curious look in her sister’s eyes that probably meant nothing.

Chapter 2

Oran

The forest at night was enchanting. So it was then, when the moon was highest in the sky that Oran chose to walk its leaf strewn paths. Silently he would make his way under the canopy of great pines and tall birch trees, marveling at how their branches and limbs reached and stretched to the heavens in their majesty. If he breathed deep enough he was able to smell the faint, almond aroma of the numerous cherry shrubs that would eventually explode with glowing white and pale pink blossoms, perfectly spotting the landscape in which they grew. It was only days into the new season, but he could already feel the lightness in his being that spring never failed to bring. It was a time of renewal, fresh hope and of secrets revealed, no longer hidden by blankets of winter snow.

He moved soundlessly through the woods, becoming one with his surroundings. The tangled roots of the trees that meandered along the forest floor were his bones, the cool night breeze; his breath. The unblinking yellow eyes of the resting night owls captured the same pictures his cool, gray eyes looked upon. He and the world he walked in were one; undeniably connected and so much a part of him he couldn’t remember believing any different. He was a druid, a believer in the old ways, and one who depended on the power of the physical world to guide him. In a land where Christianity reigned, he was respected by some but scoffed at by the majority. He was a man of peace and a skilled healer, possessing a gift of empathy so strong it allowed him to feel and understand the moods of people, animals and the shifts of the earth alike. Subtle changes in the weather; a sudden wind blowing from the sea, or prolonged periods of drought, were always significant for the elements spoke in their own fashion, carrying messages to those who were open to receive them. Oftentimes regret sat like a stone in his gut. Remorse that Christianity was threatened by his faith and the intolerance had only grown over the years, so much so that the mystical ways of their ancestors would soon be a thing of the past. Few pockets of believers remained in the land, clans scattered here and there, those who refused to give up their belief in the gods and goddesses. Still, he remained mystified that people could easily forget the old religion had guided and supported them for thousands of years before the conversion happened. He never faulted others for their fear; and it was fear that chased his gods away, he only urged the ones that would hear him that enlightenment came in many forms and should not be a thing of judgment. While he embraced all religions that valued life and the preservation of peace, he knew the majority of Christian priests shook their fists at anything other than what they preached. So he was careful, which was why his midnight jaunts to the forest were necessary for preserving his beliefs and keeping him rooted to nature and the power it provided. He walked on, the wind rustling the branches at his ear.

Oran’s father had served as counsel to the king of Ulaid, Attus, whose lands stretched all the way to the sea. Before Attus there had been Niall, and both these powerful kings believed in the old ways and kept not only a brehon, or lawmaker, as was custom in powerful houses, but relied on the ancient skills of a druid as well. His king was mesmerized at the power druids possessed and believed that some forms of their divination put him at an advantage over his more pious counterparts.

Tonight Oran had been uneasy. A bubbling and unusual sense of anxiety had taken root in his gut and was refusing to let go of its hold. Something was amiss and he knew the stars, as always, would reveal a pattern to his disquiet. Thinking back, his trepidation had been growing for some time now, and he tried to brush it off as mid-winter restlessness and a desire for spring and the warm rays of the sun. Yet the sense of foreboding would not be quiet in him. All winter he had felt the iciness of fear in the melting snow, and saw the darkness of uncertainty in the shadows the birch trees cast on the frozen lake. People, blessedly ignorant sometimes, were none the wiser to this shift of balance and the doom that was content, for now, to lurk in shadows. Whatever malevolence he sensed was on the horizon.

He stepped into a clearing and knelt on the soft, moist grass. He opened his arms wide, in an embrace to the invisible power that he would harness, and was still. He tilted his head back so that he was looking straight up into the blue-black night sky, glistening with millions of stars and a glorious full moon. He held his pose for the longest time, letting the cold night air blow through his dark hair and across his bearded face. Around him the forest seemed to answer the unspoken questions in his head. Tree limbs brushed against one another; the scraping grating on his already anxious mind. Owls hooted their warnings from a distance. Two deer walked to the edge of the clearing to momentarily observe his still form and then darted away, seemingly afraid of the energy around him.  Abruptly his head came forward, his breath rushing out of his mouth. The vision he had glimpsed remained vivid against his closed eyelids. There was a blood-soaked, stark landscape leading to the roiling seacoast. Power and lust passed through his body and rendered him mute with the heady sensations they created. But it was Devin’s lovely face that had imprinted on his mind’s eye. Her expressions were impassive, but her arms held in supplication. After that there was only blackness.

He stood on shaky legs. The stars never lied and what he had glimpsed did not bode well for the family of Attus. Danger was imminent but he was only able to see so much for a cover of cloud had passed over the heavens cloaking the rest of their secrets. The threat would come, that much was certain.

♁♁♁♁

Devin knew he was close even though she couldn’t see him. She felt his presence. It was steady, like a beating heart. It didn’t matter that the night was inky and dark. Oran had taught her that she wouldn’t always need eyes to show her the way. She no longer feared the darkness. While it remained true that anything could lurk in a shadow, a shadow could offer its own truth, too. But darkness made people uneasy. And when one was anxious they missed subtleties and clues. She would miss nothing.  Be open to all of it. She heard Oran’s voice whisper in her mind and she kept moving, her breath soft and her instincts honed.

She would be powerful like him. She would be a light, a force of her own. Their night walks were crucial in her learning to trust those other senses, to use the earth as a teacher. She felt her magic drumming in her veins. Her insight was uncanny and her way with healing herbs was becoming reputable across the villages. She would know it all. And through Oran she would be great. He was her guide, her teacher and her friend.

Oran looked up when she stepped into the clearing. Even though it was dark, his expression was illuminated by the moonlight. Her brow furrowed when she looked upon him. He inclined his head and held out a hand to her. She moved forward on bare feet and rested her hand in his. His eyes, clear and gray, searched her face. His expression remained curious. And he asked her the same question he asked her every time they made their way back to this same spot.

What did the earth reveal to you?

Devin shook her head, troubled that she didn’t have a ready answer for him.

I only felt your presence, she admitted.

He accepted this with a nod. It seems we are both in the dark, he quipped.

She squeezed his hand.  She is keeping secrets tonight.

He nodded again, but remained quiet.

This is just one night, Devin offered.

We ought to head back. There is nothing here for us.

They walked side by side across the clearing for a time before she spoke.

What were you hoping to see? You have seemed agitated lately.

Oran shook his head. I’m not sure. I don’t quite understand it myself.  Why would secrets be kept from me.

She looked at his profile as they walked, secrets?

He stopped. He took both her hands again and squeezed. Until I realize what is happening please pardon my distraction. She may be keeping her secrets as you so aptly put. But I will know them. I have never been distanced by the elements before.

Why would you be? she asked with a frown.

I wish I knew, he answered.

Devin felt a chill in response that had nothing to do with the cool night air on her skin. And once again she recalled Una’s lifeless blue eyes watching her.

Chapter 3

Devin

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Devin was not a Christian, nor did she believe that women ought to play secondary roles to men. Women were powerful in her faith, the old faith, which revered the Goddess that was Mother Earth. She realized at an early age that Christianity and its beliefs were not for her. The religion had no place for women, and boasted a judgmental, unforgiving God and she could not relate. Fortunately she had been taught tolerance as a child and didn’t pay much attention to the close-minded individuals whispering of sorcery and magic when she walked to the forest to pray. She was born to an indulgent father and Attus allowed her to worship as she saw fit. He was important enough in the north that bishops and priests did not question his religious views. The protection and arms he maintained kept the raids away from their monastic cities and the treasures hidden within.

At twenty she had been hand-selected by Oran as his apprentice healer and she never looked back. She witnessed the supremacy of the earth and the elements and was a believer in the power she could channel to aid others. Now, four years later, she remains awed by Oran’s influence and energy. She would sit at his side for hours while he told stories of brave queens, like Medb; a warrior who rode into battle bellowing war-cries and wielding swords and clubs, as powerful as her male counterparts. Oran had fascinated her as a child with his wise words and uncanny ability to know people and their motives before they seemed to. He was an enigma, a man living in a time that did not appreciate his earthly gifts. His skill with prophecy and healing were so fine they did border on magic. Truth be told, she understood why others were made nervous by him, a man who missed nothing and shielded his observations unless asked. He was a true priest of the old ways and these priests, the precious few that still walked the land, never wrote their magic down. They passed it by word of mouth to those they considered most worthy. She was proud of her burgeoning talent. She could locate weeds and roots by eye and name their healing properties without much thought. She could stitch a wound quickly; with minimal pain to the patient, or this is what her brother Egan grimaced at her when she tended to a nasty gash on his thigh a month past.

When Oran had approached her father to ask that she serve as his apprentice, Attus had been torn, not wanting to deny his daughter the richness a family could bring. But he knew how fiercely independent his eldest daughter was. In the end his fascination with the druid’s power won and the decision was final, much to her delight and her mother’s dismay. Devin understood that being with Oran meant that she may not marry right away, but this did not bother her much. She saw how men looked at her with their combinations of lust and greed. These suitors would linger the longest, letting their lips trail across the back of her hand in greeting and laugh overly hard at her words. As if she could not see through them. As if they did not realize how obvious their ambition was written on their faces.  She wanted more. She wanted a connection, she wanted love. She was considered a great beauty with her porcelain skin, dark green eyes and deep chestnut-colored hair. She stood out among the red and blonde heads of the other women surrounding her. As a wife, she would bring much to the table in the form of her family’s riches. In their beds she knew they would use her well and boast about it to their counterparts. The thought was repugnant. As a princess of Ulaid any husband she would take would be for political alliance. She promised herself that if she had to marry it would be on her terms.

Her mother, Maeve, had fought the decision. She could still remember Maeve’s gentle face so close to her own, the smooth skin of her pale forehead wrinkled with tension as she asked her if this was really, truly the path she wanted. Devin had taken her mother’s hands into her own and squeezed, telling her yes and to not worry, that all would be well. Maeve had finally nodded, her head dropping low enough that Devin looked upon the part in her red hair. When she finally looked up, Maeve wore a resigned expression and simply wrapped her in a tight embrace, whispering into her hair that her chosen path could be a lonely one. Yet, now, at twenty four years old she knew the joy and the freedom of a woman who could forge her own path. She never felt the loneliness her mother feared for her. One day she supposed she might want children, but now she was content in her life and would worry later about husbands and families. The world around her was calling to her with its secrets and she couldn’t ignore that. And that it was Beltane only fueled her commitment to her feminine power.

Chapter 4

Devin quickly made her way to the herb room, a small wood building that stood apart from the main house. It faced the forest and upon first glance, one was apt to wonder if the space was simply an over-large tree as it had been built so close to the edge of the wood it looked as if it magically sprung from the ground itself. It was so much a part of the natural landscape that it could become confusing to locate if you did not know where you were headed. Vines and branches had attached themselves to the edifice and partially covered the narrow wooden door, looking as though the forest was embracing the small space that housed its secrets.

Oran looked up when she entered the room. Her nose wrinkled at the combination of fresh earth and bog bean. He was standing over a row of the long, pinkish white blooms as they dried on a wooden table top, cutting the stems from some, and alternately removing the blossoms from others. Bog bean was used to treat poor digestion and other times to treat sore joints. Their stores were remarkably low and a feast night was a poor time to run out. The morning after was bound to bring aching bellies to his door.

Oran, she said quietly in greeting.

You are early.

She moved to stand next to his strong form, the sleeves of her dress brushing his long robes as she began to assist him with the stripping and drying process, the fine, hairy fringe of the stems tickling her fingers. She watched his concentrated expression, and it reminded her of the time she had questioned why he had the build of a warrior; strong and compact, when he was a druid, a healer. He had laughed at her and told her that just because he could wield a sword and an axe with proficiency didn’t make him any one thing. And that his skill with weapons came from simply wanting to be prepared for anything.  For the same reason her father had made sure she could aim and shoot a bow and arrow and parry with a sword, he had finished with a wink.

It’s Beltane, she smiled, my favorite feast day. I could not sleep. There is much to prepare and I would ask that I be available to help my mother. She paused, if that suits you, of course.

He nodded. Of course, help me finish this, and then take leave to aid Maeve. Tonight is important. I will be in attendance to give the ritual blessing, so perhaps it is not a bad idea to end our chores early. Besides, he added with a smile. I would have you fully immersed in the joy of the day.

Are you certain? She rolled up the sleeves of her simple dress to submerge her hands into a bowl of tepid water, rinsing the freshly cut stems and then placing them on a cotton cloth beside the bowl. Our supply here seems to have doubled since yesterday...

He nodded again and they were silent, working side by side, the sun rising higher as the morning dawned bright and clear.  It was warm for early spring and she could already feel the heat coming in through the slats in the walls.

I had another vision, she broke the amiable quiet. I meant to tell you last night when we were together, but you seemed distracted.

What did you see?  Oran paused in his task. Gray eyes intent on her face. This is a great gift you possess. Heed the message.

It was unsettling, actually, she confessed. Una and I were at odds. No, worse than that. We were at war, facing one another across a desolate, parched field. She meant me harm because I was startled awake.  Normally I would have forgotten such a thing by now, but the thoughts linger.

She waited for his response, but he was quiet and still. His eyes were on her, but faraway at the same time. The flowers he had been holding fell from lifeless fingers. 

Oran, she said after a minute.

Slowly he turned to her. I had a similar dream, he said. And was attempting to get clarity last night but couldn’t. That is why I was distracted. While I didn’t see Una I did glimpse images of...doom. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully.

What images?

He looked at her a long time before answering. Your father, he finally said. Wandering an abandoned Ravenlough, his crown slipping from bloodied fingers. There was a fray in the forest but faces were not available to me, only the rise and fall of swords. And then I saw you.

Her eyes widened. Me?

Aye. Standing in the same forest with a guard at your back.

But you couldn’t see his face, she finished.

Correct.

Devin let out a breath, unaware that she had been holding it. I don’t understand, she said. All I know to be true is that something is...off.

He nodded. I am going to bring this to your father’s attention today. He should be made aware.

Devin shook her head and resumed work with the flowers waiting in the tepid bowl of water, suddenly needing to be busy with something. Aware of what, though? she said. My father operates on the tangible only.

Oran grinned mirthlessly. One wonders why he keeps my counsel then...

Devin smiled in spite of the tense energy in the space. Her father was a contradiction. Enchanted at the power of a druid, but second-guessing Oran at every turn.

Perhaps we get ahead of ourselves, Devin said. I did have a spat with Una the same morning I experienced that vision. She just got under my skin is all.

Maybe, Oran answered. She is dramatic, that one. After the ritual this evening I will make my way to the grove at the clearing again. Have a second go at getting answers then talk to Attus. You, though, I want to enjoy the night. Be there for the villagers, for your parents, and simply honor the simplicity of the night.

Are you certain? I can accompany you. It would be no bother.

He put a hand up to stop her from saying more. I insist. I will make sense of this. Truly, Devin, I want you to immerse yourself in the night.

She smiled up at him, If you insist.

His smile in response was tight, but she was too busy in her work again to notice that he was relieved that she dropped the subject.  She was unaware that he needed the silence to digest her words and the vivid images they had conjured. Something dangerous was coming their way and they both felt it. Devin would ponder on it later. Now, all she wanted to do was forget and be a part of the glorious spring day that awaited.

Chapter 5

Bram

Bram stood high above his village on the peak of a grassy hill. He rested a muddy, booted foot atop a moss-covered rock and surveyed all that was laid out before him. A surge of pride coursed through him as he viewed the stark beauty of the landscape and the individuals moving about the fields, his people, as they went through the motions of their day. He scanned the scattered wood and thatch homes, some with smoke rising from the chimneys, while others had plump women in the doorways sweeping dirt from the step. Children played in circles and stray dogs chased behind wagging their tails and barking their delight. In the distance, half obscured by the mist, was his fortress. It was bigger by far than the modest homes of the villagers, yet it still bore a similar plainness. But what it lacked in adornment, it made up for in protection. He had a wall built around two thirds of the place to protect against the incessant raids from the south. The wall was near to completed and he was certain it would surprise the next round of attack that he knew would eventually come.

The past fortnight Attus scavenged a southern village and stole precious cattle. Two