He held close to Osla, stroking his neck, trying to calm himself by calming his horse.
‘What do you want of me, sir?’ he demanded as boldly as he could.
Idoc did not reply, but stood still, watching.
‘Either speak or move aside, sir!’ Caradawc said desperately.
Idoc smiled as coldly as a snake on its prey.
‘You have something I want,’ he uttered at last, his voice hollow and strange as though emerging from a tunnel.
‘I have nothing here but my clothes and my weapons. If it is coin you are after . . . or jewels . . .’
‘No. No coin. No jewels. Yet you’ve something I must have.’
‘If it’s my weapon you want, you may have it directly – but in your throat!’ Caradawc drew his sword with a flourish.
Idoc merely smiled again. Then looking over Caradawc’s shoulder he gave an almost imperceptible nod to those who were pressing in close behind the prince.
Caradawc turned at once, sword arm raised, ready to strike at as many as he could before he went down. Where now was that feeling of confidence that he had felt at dawn? Where the good spirits and the angels . . . the hermit and the yew tree?
He slashed and thrust and slashed again, but to no avail . . . the creatures he was fighting had no flesh to wound. Idoc watched impassively while they removed the prince’s sword from him, his knife, his horse . . . while they carried him to a flat rock and bound him tightly with a strong web exuded like slime from their long fingers. They left him spread-eagled and then they retreated, leaving Idoc gazing down into his eyes.
‘You have lent me your body before,’ he spoke quietly. ‘But this time . . .’
‘No!’ screamed Caradawc, suddenly understanding the terrible meaning of his words. Shadowy memories returned . . . the tower . . . Viviane . . . the yearning that was not his yearning! He twisted and turned, using all his strength against the web that bound him.
Idoc watched him as if amused.
‘You are strong. That is good. But you are not strong enough.’
‘Why? Why me?’
‘You owe me life.’
‘I owe you life? How can that be?’
‘There will be a moment when you will remember . . . and in that moment you’ll wish that you had died before you had remembered.’
‘You are insane! I have scarcely seen you before.’
‘Ah yes, my friend. You will indeed remember.’
‘On the river bank perhaps. But never before that . . .’
‘Long before that.’
‘The black knight?’
‘Before that!’
The demons were crowding around again, as though gathering for some sinister ritual. Idoc glanced at them as though checking whether they were in their proper places – whether they were ready to begin.
‘Listen,’ he said, his eyes gleaming with an eagerness that made Caradawc’s blood run cold. ‘Listen to the words they speak.’ For Idoc knew that bodies can be subdued by physical force, but it is words that overcome the mind. ‘Listen,’ he purred.
The chanting then began – and the words wove a cunning web around Caradawc’s mind that was as impossible to break as the one around his body.
He listened to the chanting. He listened . . . and he believed that he was bound . . . he believed what they were telling him. His body grew numb . . . his mind grew numb . . .
Idoc watched and waited . . . holding back until he knew that there would be no resistance . . . and then he moved.
Chapter 8
The wedding and the amethyst crystal
During that same day Viviane, still travelling north, came upon a path in a valley which was hauntingly familiar. She noticed it first while resting on a grassy bank. The path snaked beside the stream and then divided; one fork continued along the stream side, while the other led off into the woods blanketing the steep slope of the hill. At the fork there stood a huge boulder totally unlike any other rock in the valley. It lay there as though it had been dropped by a giant, and it seemed to consist of hundreds of rounded river pebbles cemented together with reddish sand.
Puzzled, Viviane went up to it, and ran her hand over its surface, wondering how she could have seen it before when she knew she had not passed this way on her journey south to Castle Goreu. She stood beside it for a while and looked around her, her eyes drawn mostly to the path that climbed the wooded hill. She felt a very strong urge to climb it, but out of caution she resisted this. She tried to continue along the path beside the stream, and walked that way for a while. But she still felt so worried by the familiarity of the boulder and the steep path that finally she turned back to it. There she stood with her back to the boulder, gazing up the path. It climbed steeply, some parts of it more like a rocky stairway.
Gradually the memory, which at first had been like a gentle touch on the elbow, became more like a vigorous pressure on the shoulders. Fiann had walked this way long, long ago. At the top of this path, on this very hill, stood the tower where she used to meet Idoc!
As soon as she realized this, Viviane ran back along the lower path, her heart pounding with terror. She must leave this valley as quickly as she could: she was in greater danger than ever before. It seemed to her that behind every bush some malevolent shape now lurked; the trees, formerly so tall and shapely, seemed to have withdrawn into darkness, twisted and knotted around some secret disease. Even the path seemed rugged and hostile, and she tripped and fell more than once.
Finally, at the mouth of the valley where the path was walled steeply on both sides, she came face to face with Caradawc on his chestnut horse. For a moment she stood paralysed with fright, and then broke into relieved sobbing. The sun shone down on him and he seemed to her the most handsome sight she had ever seen. She was so tired . . . so very tired of running . . . of being alone . . . of being afraid . . .
She lifted her arms to him, tears streaming down her face.
He dismounted at once and gathered her to him, holding her close, kissing her face, her hair, her neck . . .
‘Why did you run?’ he asked. ‘Why do you keep running from me?’
‘I thought . . . I thought you would be angry with me for all that has happened . . .’
‘Should I be angry?’
‘No,’ she sobbed. ‘There is no cause for it. But there have been so many strange things. Oh Caradawc . . . I’m so tired of strange things happening to me . . .’
‘Now I’m taking you home – and we’ll be married. There will be no more strangeness, I promise you.’
He sounded so confident.
Perhaps he was right.
Perhaps he had grown strong with all the trials that he had been through. Perhaps he would be able to protect her from Idoc. Because she wanted to believe this she believed it, and she allowed herself to be lifted on to Caradawc’s horse, and they turned towards home.
Whether it was because she was so happy, or whether it was because she had travelled in a great circle in her attempt to escape, the route back seemed much shorter than the way out. She clung to Caradawc the whole time, her heart singing that he seemed to bear no resentment at her peculiar behaviour, but was only glad – as she was glad – that they were back together. He did not question her about anything that had happened. It was as though he had decided that what was past was truly past, and they were going to start again as though nothing had happened.
Believing herself safe in his arms, she half wished she had ventured up that path in the wood to check if the tower was really there. But then she realized what it would mean if it did exist – and she shivered.
‘Are you cold?’ Caradawc said, drawing her closer.
She gripped his arms so tightly her fingers went white.
‘Lady,’ he laughed, ‘that hurts me.’
She reached up to his head and pulled it down towards her, kissing him with a desperate intensity. ‘This is real!’ she thought.
He swung his leg over the saddle and slid to the
ground while she still kissed him. The living grass was a better mattress than any stuffed with straw. Osla settled peacefully to cropping while the two humans rolled on the earth, struggling out of their clothes and into each other.
‘Ah Caradawc,’ thought Viviane. ‘This is what I have been waiting for. This is how love-making should be . . .’ Her body arched and curved, striving to take him in deeper and deeper . . . wanting it to last for ever . . . terrified it would be over before she reached that marvellous release . . . But she need not have worried. Caradawc seemed aware of her needs and took her through that gate and back again, time and again . . . until at last she was spent and satisfied, lying damp with sweat on the grass . . . staring up at the startling blue of the sky, her eyes wide open . . . wondering how such extraordinary blissful feelings could come from such an ordinary and temporary thing as a body.
After a while Caradawc rested on his elbow and kissed her very slowly from the top of her head to her toes . . . lingering long over certain places . . . until he could feel that she was beginning to rouse from her contented lethargy. Then he made love again, but this time for himself – fiercely.
* * * *
They rode into Castle Goreu when the moon was already up, and Caradawc’s cheerful reply to the challenge of the guard brought Rheged and Gerin racing out into the courtyard, followed by most of the household.
Gerin at once reached up his arms to help Viviane down – his eyes alight to see her safe. But then he hesitated and drew back quickly. Rheged stepped forward to take her hand. She jumped down lightly, just holding his arm to steady herself.
‘How is Cai?’ Viviane asked as they walked towards the main house.
‘He’s very ill,’ Gerin replied soberly. ‘It’s possible he’ll die.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘His wounds won’t heal,’ Rheged said. ‘That bastard Neol and his bitch sister!’
‘We must go to him at once,’ Viviane said, tugging at Caradawc’s arm.
‘You go,’ he said. ‘I must see what’s been done to defend the place. Gerin – come with me.’ And he strode off with Gerin towards the guard posts without a backward glance for her.
Vaguely uneasy, she turned to Rheged. ‘Take me to Cai,’ she said.
He led her to the rooms Caradawc had occupied before he inherited his father’s kingdom, and she stood beside the bed looking down into the feverish face of the young man who had seemed so light-hearted, so innocent, such a short while before. His blond hair was matted and dark with sweat, his eyes wild. Blood-soaked bandages covered much of his body. She looked up at Rheged and was surprised how tender and concerned he looked – the same rough Rheged who loved to fight and hated any physical weakness. Caradawc had once told her how Rheged seemed terrified by the sight of other people’s wounds, and after a battle would not even help to carry the wounded off the field to safety. Yet here he was nursing his friend with the tenderest care. Strange that Idoc, who was so evil, could sometimes bring about good in others.
She touched Rheged’s arm gently. ‘He needs the bandages changed, my friend. Will you help me?’
Rheged nodded. ‘I’ll bring water.’
‘I’ll need herbs too.’ And she called after him: ‘Send the priest to me.’
Sitting down beside the sick man she started talking softly to soothe him, his eyes looked so wild. It was evident that he did not recognize her, but seemed to grow calmer at the sound of her voice. Very carefully she started to remove the linen bandages, throwing them into the fireplace for burning. She was not more than halfway through this task when the Christian priest arrived with his little bag of herbs. They talked softly over Cai, the priest saying how Rheged had scarcely left his friend’s side since he had been brought home. He explained what they had already done for the infection, but he feared nothing they could do might help while the young man seemed to have something very heavy on his conscience.
Viviane looked up sharply. ‘He did not do what they accuse him of, Father.’
‘I believe you, daughter, but nevertheless there is something deep in his soul that is festering outwardly on his skin. I have treated him with every remedy I know, but still it does not heal. It is up to the Lord Christ now in His mercy to forgive him . . .’
She looked at Cai thoughtfully. ‘Or he to forgive himself,’ she said softly.
When Rheged returned with the water, the two of them bathed the patient carefully.
‘It’s a pity we can’t bring Elined here to see him,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘It is her mercy, her forgiveness he needs too, Father.’
‘I’ll fetch her!’ Rheged said, rising suddenly.
‘No, Rheged! I didn’t mean that. You’d be killed . . .’
‘I’ll bring her!’ he repeated firmly. At last there was something he could do for his friend, other than sit and watch him suffer.
‘You can’t go . . .’
But he had already left them, the door swinging noisily against the wall as he flung it aside. She started to hurry after him, but then she stopped. Let it be. Something had to be done.
She turned to the priest kneeling at Cai’s bedside and took her place beside him.
* * * *
Caradawc insisted on holding their wedding immediately, though Cai was still very ill and Rheged had not yet returned. When Viviane protested that they should wait until his friends could be with them, he argued that his people were very disturbed and anxious after recent events, and a royal wedding would settle them down and assure them that all was well.
Gerin tried to avoid her, and when he could not he forced himself to behave in a formal and distant manner. But beneath this she could sense so strongly his desire for her that she was surprised it was not the talk of the whole court.
* * * *
The day chosen for the ceremony arrived in a blaze of sunlight. Apart from the spies sent out to keep watch on Huandaw’s movements, and the guards alert on the battlements, Caradawc’s people were all gathered in force.
The mood of uncertainty and anxiety that had followed Goreu’s mysterious death, the disappearance of Princess Viviane – and the attack of Huandaw – was joyfully dispelled. Bells rang out and the roads were crowded with people hurrying towards the castle. Flags and banners fluttered from every possible post and pole, tower and pinnacle.
Viviane stood in Cai’s chamber, looking out at the crowds gathering, coloured tents being put up, trestle tables laid out. She could see great spits being set up in the courtyard, where soon the beef and venison would be roasted.
Cai was still no better, and the priest was continually at his side, often in prayer, and regularly administering herbal concoctions. But to no avail: it was as though Cai had lost the will to live. Viviane was too busy now to spend much time with him, but her sympathy for what he was suffering brought her into his chamber even on her wedding morning, hoping to find him improved enough for her truly to enjoy her special day.
There had been no word from Rheged either, and she feared the worst. She regretted that it had been a remark of hers that had sent him rushing off towards his enemy.
Suddenly there came a disturbance at the gate. Viviane leaned forward the better to see what caused it, hoping that it might signal Rheged’s return. But instead the guards were having an altercation with a little old woman. She seemed intent on making her way towards the door of the royal apartments, instead of joining the other guests milling about in the courtyard.
Viviane was just about to draw back from the window and leave the guards to their task when suddenly she noticed something that made her draw in her breath sharply. For the old woman was wearing a long blue cloak, much too fine for her. It was the same cloak Viviane had reluctantly parted with to the old lady in the green chapel. Without waiting another second she spun round from the window and ran from the chamber. Her hair unbound, her morning-robes half unlaced, she flew down the dim corridors and out into the blinding light of the sunlit courtyard.
‘Let her be!’ she
called out to the guards as they bundled the old creature back out through the gate. ‘I know that woman. Bring her to me.’
‘What’s going on here?’ She heard Caradawc’s voice as he came striding out to see what was happening.
‘They’ve forbidden entry to someone I know,’ Viviane protested. ‘Tell them to bring her back here.’
Caradawc spoke sharply to the captain of the guard, and within moments the old woman was led before them. Viviane had judged right. She was indeed the old crone from the green chapel.
‘She demanded to see the princess privately,’ the captain grumbled. ‘We didn’t know she was known to the princess.’ He gazed with ill-concealed disgust at the peasant rags beneath the extraordinary blue cloak.
Viviane held out her hands in welcome. ‘Come,’ she said warmly. ‘We’ll go inside.’
People were crowding round to stare eagerly at the scene, shuffling and pushing for a closer view.
‘No,’ Caradawc interrupted sharply. ‘There is no time for that now! State your business,’ he snapped coldly.
Viviane looked at him in surprise.
‘I would guess she’s a thief,’ the captain said. ‘That cloak is never her own!’
‘I gave it to her,’ Viviane said quickly and angrily. ‘You may go now, sir, I need no defending from my friends.’
The captain looked at Caradawc. But the king nodded, so he left. The crowd pressed closer, marking every word.
‘Caradawc, there is time enough,’ she said, and annoyance showed in her voice. She turned to the old woman. ‘We’ll go inside,’ she said and, taking her arm, she led her towards the door.
They entered a chamber full of flowers, the bower in which the bride and her women would gather before the ceremony. The old woman stared around her with delight.
Viviane took her thin hands in her own. ‘Have you come from the green chapel . . . from the Lady?’ she asked eagerly.
The Tower and the Emerald Page 10