by Troy A Hill
“No, but the ones from Canterbury would.” She shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll go chat with the girls who aren’t chaperoning the men tonight. I never get any good gossip when I’m not at those dinners.”
“The life of a spy,” I said and patted her hands before I stepped out of her embrace. “It’s just no fun when you have no one to watch and collect secrets on.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Oh, there’s a plate of food on the cupboard. I wasn’t sure what you preferred. Dried fruit seemed safest.”
I took my time studying the fruit assortment, poking my finger through the mix and selecting a couple of dried apple pieces right as Bleddyn knocked.
“A good choice for tonight,” he added with a glance at my dress. “We’ll have the ringing ceremony for Cenric’s new men.”
“Go ahead and finish the plate,” I said to Thea. “I had a snack earlier, so I won’t need any more.” I didn’t mention she was the snack I had enjoyed the night before.
In the hallway, once we were around the corner, I passed Bleddyn the apple slices.
“I know how much you like your apples,” I said. He smiled and took them from me.
“Be careful tonight,” he said between slices. “Cynewise will take notice of you after last night.” He waved the last apple wedge at my embroidery. “Between your blade and that dress, you’re announcing privilege that Penda gives few people.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “Tell me about the queen. What’s she like?”
Bleddyn chuckled. “I remember the one time she and Rhian were together, here in Mercia.”
“Problems?”
“No,” he said. “Rhian understands political power very well. Watching the power dance between her and Penda’s queen was like seeing two predators in the wild. Neither wanted to fight. Both wanted to be dominant. Cynewise came out on top because Rhian is intelligent and knew she was in another dominant’s territory.”
“Mercian woman aren’t subjects to their husbands and fathers?” I asked. “I thought Penllyn was the only enlightened cantref in the world on that matter.”
“At least at the upper reaches of society,” my brother said. “Penda may be a warrior king, but he’s a wise one. His choice of a queen was similar to how I selected Rhian. Or rather, let her select me…” He chuckled, then waved at my bodice. “Your cross will impress her more than your sword.”
“Cymry or Roman Church?” I asked.
“Canterbury, I believe,” he said. “With Cynewise, I suspect that religion is a means to gain and keep power.” He nodded to the armed guards at the door to the feasting hall. I recognised both from the horde I faced in the practice hall the night before.
“With the queen of Mercia,” Bleddyn added, “you must judge for yourself.”
As we entered the hall, one of the cup stewards came our way. She selected two wooden cups from a table and carried a pitcher in her other hand.
“Milord Penllyn,” she said, filling both cups. “Mead for you and your sister.”
“Diolch,” Bleddyn said and took both cups from her.
“Milady,” the cup steward said, “Her Grace Cynewise requests you sit with her tonight.”
“I am honoured, and I would be delighted to sit with the queen,” I replied.
Bleddyn was correct in his assessment of her, but I hadn’t expected to learn of it as soon as we entered.
“When the bells chime, please stand to the left of her seat,” the steward said. “My Lord Penllyn, Her Grace asked that you accompany your sister.”
Once the steward headed off to greet another guest, I glanced at Bleddyn. He was grinning.
“Not angry that I got the request before you?” I teased.
“I prefer not to be noticed by queens,” he said. “You’ll have to brave Cynewise’s presence. For once, I’m happy to be the escort and not the lead. And, I get to eat my fill. You ladies have to remain proper and converse while you only sip your cups.”
“Lady Mair,” a familiar voice croaked from the edge of the feasting hall. Talian stepped from the shadows. “Pardon, Lord Penllyn,” he said. His eyes darted about the room.
“Feeling out of place?” I asked.
He pursed his lips and twisted his hands around the cup he held. I smelled mead in it. Good man, he had remembered the drink he needed to help me.
“Dunstan invited me to the ringing ceremony,” he said. “I didn’t know that involved a dinner with the king and queen. With Siors gone, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.”
Bleddyn chuckled. I glared at him. The poor man was a farmer in a room full of nobles.
“I don’t suggest you try to seat him with us,” Bleddyn said. “And I suspect Cenric and Dunstan will be at Penda’s right this evening.”
A familiar face entered the hall just then. I pulled my arm out of Bleddyn’s elbow and slid it into Talian’s.
“Help has arrived,” I said.
Talian, however, still looked like a rabbit surrounded by foxes. We strolled back towards the entry and left Bleddyn to greet the other Mercian nobles.
“Ah, Lady Mair,” Brother Twm said.
“Brother Twm, Mihangel,” I said. “May I ask a favour?” I explained about Talian’s presence.
“Of course,” Mihangel said, agreeing to take Talian with him for the evening. “I doubt we’ll have to sit at the head table.” He looked at Talian, weighing him as a commander might look at a newly arrived man-at-arms. “Lady Mair said she had help at the Battle of the Abbey. Was that you? Had I known, I would have taken your hand last evening.”
Talian blushed and looked down at his feet. I wondered how much of that battle story was getting around.
“It was,” I said and took Talian’s cup from him. Mihangel held his arm out in the warrior greeting. Mihangel took Talian’s arm and pulled him in to slap his shoulder twice.
“He stayed with Emlyn, Afon, and I throughout the battle,” I explained. “Right after the wizard tried to kill Lady Gwen with a spell and had his staff aimed at me, Talian grabbed a sword I accidentally left in a dead man and ran that wizard through.”
“If you had Lady Mair’s back all the way across that field,” Mihangel said, “then stand tall and look every man here in the eye, son. You’ve earned the right.” Mihangel turned towards me. “I spent time with Siors, asking about Afon. Talk drifted to tales of your battle that night.”
“Skill in battle is commendable,” Brother Twm said and shook Talian’s arm. “Remember to spend your evening in prayers.”
Mihangel glanced at his protégé. A chime cut off whatever he was about to say.
“If you will excuse me, my friends,” I said and handed Talian my cup, keeping his empty one. “I must entertain Her Grace with tales of battles tonight.”
Mihangel laughed. Talian smiled. The butterflies drifted into my belly. I’d had occasion to meet several queens over my centuries. A queen with the same character and drive that Rhian had would be interesting. And a definite challenge for tonight.
25
Her Grace
Lord Chamberlain banged his stick on the floor for attention once the key guests like Bleddyn and I had taken our places at the head table. He announced members of Penda’s family, who strode into the feasting hall. First in where Penda’s daughters, Cyneburgh and Cynewith. After them, Penda’s sister, Lady Rothaid. Tall and blonde. Almost as tall as Penda, but slim, like Gwen. As she entered and walked behind us, I picked up the scent of roses. She used them in her baths and soaps.
Lady Rothaid took the seat next to Bleddyn, and Penda’s two adult daughters the ones next to her. Lord Chamberlain announced Penda’s sons, young Wulfhere, then Paeda, King of the Middle Angles. Bleddyn had been correct. Cenric and Dunstan were to be seated next to Penda, followed by Wulfhere. Paeda maintained his own table with the four priests and a few of his own retainers.
I cast a sly look at Bleddyn next to Penda’s sister. He avoided my gaze. We had to turn towards the door as the king and quee
n of Mercia entered.
Dinner progressed as I expected. The men ate, drank, and laughed. We women sat and carried on conversations, including Cynewise and myself.
“I must thank you for coming to my husband’s aid last night,” she began. “Wolves are rare in this part of the kingdom. I imagine one with the frothing sickness could brave the walls to attack.”
“Of course,” I replied, not sure how much information she had about the creature. Did she know it was a shifter? Would she even believe such a creature existed?
“You’ll be at the funeral for Baldwin tomorrow, won’t you?”
I nodded. Even if that wasn’t a royal decree, I hadn’t planned on skipping the ceremony. He had died protecting not only his king but also me. He had been the only one of us armed when the attack began, and he acted as a true warrior. I owed him my presence.
“Internment or cremation?” I inquired, not sure which was practised here.
“Internment,” Cynewise said. “One of the few perks of being wife to the king is shifting our culture away from the barbaric practices of the old gods. I’ll have my priest say the prayers for the dead before my husband’s priest offers the rites of Woden. Enough about death, though. How is my dear friend Lady Penllyn?”
The shift in topic was welcome, though I doubted the “dear friend” relationship, given what I’d been told earlier. The queen already knew of the births and insisted that I take gifts back with me for the babies.
“I’ll have them sent to your quarters before you leave,” she said. “Do you know when that will be?”
“As of now, no,” I said. “As long as my brother has business here, I suspect I’ll stay with him.”
“Has Lord Chamberlain looked after you with a proper servant for your needs?” Her eyes sparkled with that question, and a sly smile pulled up her cheeks.
“Thea is a most attentive.” I wasn’t sure where she was going with our conversation. There was a motive lurking behind this small talk.
“So you’re not likely to marry soon, are you? You look so young. A lady of your youth needs a husband.”
“Unfortunately, I am widowed,” I explained. Lord Chamberlain had already tracked down my titles, so I wasn’t worried about sharing. “I wear my years well and have no urge to marry again. My new family in Penllyn is the best I could hope for.”
“You’ve taken vows, then?” Her eyes drifted to the Celtic cross hanging on my chest.
“Not a formal set,” I said, trying to walk. “But I have dedicated myself to the same service Lady Gwen has. We both serve The Holy Lady.”
“Perhaps, then, you could carry a message to Her Grace?”
Did Cynewise know of Gwen’s past? Few called her “Your Grace.”
“I would be delighted to,” I replied. I kept my face serious yet inviting.
“Since she is head of your order,” Cynewise said and raised her cup to take a sip before she continued.
Gwen’s order. That made sense. The title of “Your Grace” was also used for abbots, and abbesses. Gwen, the head of the order of The Holy Lady. I let my face relax and gave a nod.
“I hope to save one of my daughters for holy orders,” the queen said with a glance down the table. “So far, my husband has only married one off to Oswiu’s prodigy. We’re fortunate that she can spend time here this spring.”
Holy orders and Gwen. This made sense. I wondered where she would end up.
“Lady Gwen is so respected in both the Cymry and the Roman Church out of Canterbury, I’d ask that she give a good word for my daughters when we propose the building project to the bishops.”
“You’d like them to found an abbey?”
“That is my hope, dear,” Cynewise said. “Our new alliances with Oswiu, marrying off two of our children to his offspring, should cement alliances there well enough that we can find the backing for at least one abbey in the Northumbrian kingdoms. Preferably in Deira. I am seeking promises of support from Canterbury. Northumbria is still overseen by the Cymry bishops from Hye. Her Grace could help with their approval.”
“Would not a Mercian-based location be better?” I asked.
“My husband would build such an abbey here,” she said. “With one daughter married to a Northumbrian prince, however, I’d prefer my girls stay together. Of course, we may end up with both the girls married off. My husband sees advantages to stronger ties with the Northumbrian kings.”
“I will pass your request to Lady Gwen,” I said and reached out over my connection to her. Cynewise turned her attention to a noble who had approached with a request.
“Is that all?” Gwen asked when I had explained the request. “Church politics are becoming more interesting than Mercia and Northumbria’s feuds.”
“Is there something I’m not seeing in this move?” I sent.
“There might be,” Gwen sent, then paused for a few seconds. “I wonder if this is a move with Oswiu’s wife. She is of the Roman branch of the Church and looks to Canterbury for her spiritual guidance. As does Cynewise. Oswiu is from a Cymry line and looks towards the Cymry bishops at Hye.”
“The queens are vying for more church power of their own?” I sent. “That makes sense. But I still see little difference between the two branches.”
“The only major differences amount to tonsures for the monks,” Gwen sent, and I chuckled to myself. “And the calendar for figuring the holy days. Easter can be difficult when they’re separated by two weeks. Oswiu ends his time in fasting and holds a feast while his queen and her retinue have to maintain their fast. Only the yeomen and craftsmen benefit by getting two feast days hosted by their monarchs.”
“And there is the power struggle between the two churches,” I sent. “I’m sure that the Bishop of Rome wants to pull these renegade bishops in the Cymry lands under his authority. I remember Bishop Heilyn suggesting that the Roman clergy needed to bring their pontiff to Cymru to discuss the matter.”
“Oh, I doubt that the Cymry bishops would give him any credence if he visited the island. Cymry like to rule themselves.”
“I’ve noticed. And I’m happy about that,” I sent.
“Stay noncommittal in this one. Don’t promise on my behalf.”
“As Your Grace commands,” I teased. By now, Cynewise had turned back to me.
“I cannot promise for Gwen, though,” I said.
“Carrying the message is enough, my dear,” the queen said and patted my hand.
My heart sank right then as a familiar and unwelcome face approached our table. Father Adda. The Witch Hunter.
“Your Grace,” Adda said with an extravagant bow towards her. His eyes slid towards me and his expression darkened, just for a second, then he pushed his smile back to the forefront. “And Lady…?”
“Lady Mair of Penllyn,” Cynewise said, touching my arm. “She is brother to Lord Penllyn, from the Cymry lands to our west.”
“An honour and a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Adda said, giving me a quick bow, about half as deep as he gave to the Mercian queen. “Your aid to protect His Grace last night was most fortuitous. Holding the creature off until the King could rise and take the sword from you to defend you and the fallen guard. Was it Baldwin?”
“Yes,” Cynewise said. “We’ll have the internment tomorrow. Our priest here will lead a mass in the morning, and then the priest for Woden and Thunor will lead the funeral rights when Penda lays him to rest. You’ll attend mass in the morning with us, won’t you?”
“As you wish,” Adda said. “And your son King Paeda has informed me of your desire to institute an abbey for your daughters. We in our guild would be happy to lend assistance in helping to convince the Northumbrian kings that your plan is worthy of their support.”
“I hope I can achieve that easily enough,” Cynewise said. “Do you have the ear of Oswiu? I hadn’t heard from Queen Enflaed that your guild has a presence in Bernicia or Deira.”
“Our guild is expanding,” Adda said. “Although with the disapp
earance of Seeker Bechard, we’ve had to send off to Rome for another of his station. I’m acting as the surrogate until our Holy Father finds the best man to send here.”
“And what would you want from me?” she asked. Blunt and to the point. I liked her style.
“A recommendation to your husband,” Adda said with a smile and a small bow. “As King Paeda has promised to do in Middle Anglia, we’d like to have his aid in building the guild’s presence here in Mercia. We’d be most helpful in converting the populace to the one true faith and helping them see the old gods are only myths and superstitions.”
“Perhaps we should observe your activities in my son’s kingdom first,” Cynewise said. “Your guild is new to us.”
Cautious. I liked her.
“I believe your efforts in Northumbria could lead to a better connection between the Cymry bishops and Rome,” said Adda. “The Holy Father in Rome will soon issue an edict for the Cymry clergy to recognise his authority.”
“Perhaps you should consult with the Cymry bishops about that,” Bleddyn said.
“Yes,” Cynewise said. “Lord Penllyn speaks wisely. If the Cymry clergy are to join with those from Canterbury, it will be because we find commonality among our faith. Decrees from Rome are not how to win the Cymry over.”
The queen of Mercia may not have realised it, but she was earning my respect.
26
Of Blood and Battle
Once the queen had her fill of conversation from the various nobles who approached—often to pass along congratulations for her son’s upcoming marriage—she motioned to Lord Chamberlain. He rapped his staff and announced the queen’s departure. Everyone in the hall rose.
“Will you stay for the ringing ceremony?” Cynewise asked, glancing at my side where Soul hung.
“It will be my honour to witness the oaths,” I said.
With Bleddyn and Talian still here, my only other choice was to head back to the room and try to pretend to eat while Thea watched me. Staying here seemed the safest option.