Dragon's Dream

by Mary Gillgannon

  When Gwenaseth failed to enter the room, Rhiannon walked restlessly to one of the looms and perused the plaid cloak she was weaving for her husband. She smiled with pleasure at the rich pattern of crimson and indigo, thinking how kingly Maelgwn would look with the thick mantle draped over his shoulders. Deep shades suited him, much as vivid ones befitted her father. The subtle, jewel-like tones would make Maelgwn's dark hair gleam even blacker, his brilliant eyes appear even more striking.

  Rhiannon's smile faded. She had begun the cloak soon after Maelgwn had left with his army, never expecting to finish it before he returned. Now it was almost complete, and there was still no sign of her husband and his men. A twinge of worry creased her brow. Two moon cycles had passed, and little word had reached them on how the army was faring. Had Maelgwn's hope the campaign could be finished quickly been overly optimistic?

  "Rhiannon!"

  She turned to see Gwenaseth hurrying into the room. Her fair skin was flushed with color, and she panted for breath. "The army's on their way home," she announced. "The messenger said they'd been victorious, so I assume that means the other chieftains have agreed to Maelgwn's terms. The sentry sighted the troops, so they'll be here soon."

  Gwenaseth paused, catching her wind, then gestured to Rhiannon's clothes. "I've sent Taffee to find your new lavender gown. It would hardly do for you to welcome home your husband in that."

  Rhiannon felt a flash of irritation at Gwenaseth's tart words. The loose, plain gown she wore was comfortable and was perfectly suited for the life she led. If she wore her good clothes, they would only get stained with dye in the weaving room or smeared with clay as she made her pots. And she could not imagine traipsing through the woods in bright silk and embroidered lamb's wool. Of course, now that her husband was home, she would have to resume her efforts to appear as the kind of queen Maelgwn wanted. The thought of it somehow dampened her pleasure in her husband's return.

  Gwenaseth rushed off. Rhiannon followed her from the weaving room. She crossed the busy courtyard full of excited woman and children and busy servants. Inside the king's bedchamber, she stripped to her shift and put on the lavender silk gown. The fabric felt delightful against her skin, but she could not get used to the way the garment clung to her body. Gwenaseth insisted it should fit snugly around her tiny waist and slim torso, but Rhiannon doubted whether it flattered her. She had no generous curves to stretch the fabric enticingly, and she feared that the clinging shape only emphasized her slightness.

  Rhiannon found the matching amethyst jewelry in the box of treasures at the bottom of the chest and adorned her neck and wrists with the gleaming stones. As she replaced the box, her hands touched a smooth, heavy object. She slowly lifted the polished bronze mirror, fingering the ornately designed handle. The mirror had belonged to Maelgwn's first wife, and Gwenaseth insisted Rhiannon should have it. Rhiannon raised the mirror to gaze into it, then hastily put it back into the chest of clothes. There was no point looking at her reflection. Except for the jewelry and the clothes, she looked exactly the same as always. She could not hope to compare with the beautiful creature Taffee had described when she told Rhiannon about Maelgwn's first wife.

  And yet—Rhiannon almost reached for the mirror again. Before he left, Maelgwn had appeared to find her appearance pleasing. He mentioned the bright color of her hair several times, and his passion for her slender body had been astounding. Could it be he thought her comely? Esylt had often complimented Rhiannon on her appearance. Perhaps her brother also saw something in Rhiannon that others did not.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by shouts from the courtyard, and she realized that Maelgwn and his army must have arrived. She hastily shut the chest and pushed it back into the coiner, then hurried from the bedchamber and ran across the courtyard to join the rest of the crowd thronging the gates.

  Another shout went up, and Rhiannon stretched on tiptoe, struggling to see over the excited mob. The army advancing up the trackway to the fortress was an impressive sight. Brilliant banners streamed wildly above the gaily attired troops, crimson and green for the Brigantes and deep scarlet and gold for the Cymry. The whole assemblage sparkled as the sun glinted on the fishscale-like mail shirts and gleaming bronze helmets, and gilded the gold and jewels of daggers and swords. The dazzling colors of the warriors' plaid war cloaks swirled and seethed in the light like the waves of a many-hued sea.

  Rhiannon held her breath as the army approached. The convoy was led by a handful of mounted warriors. A knot formed in her stomach as she spotted Maelgwn in the lead. On his proud gray stallion, he looked so beautiful, so magnificent. It amazed her to think she was wedded to such a splendid warrior. How strange to think of herself as a wife welcoming her husband back from war. She had often watched Narana greeting Ferdic as he rode into their encampment. Ferdic usually gave Rhiannon's stepmother an absentminded kiss, then went off to recount his exploits around the feasting fire.

  Remembering Ferdic's attitude, Rhiannon felt a flutter of nerves, and she edged away from the press of eager wives and children. Maelgwn had been very attentive to her before he left, but that was probably because her body was new to him. It was common for a warrior to give himself over to the comforts of a woman before he left to face the hazards of war. Now that the danger was over, Maelgwn would no doubt spend his first few hours home around the fire with his men, bragging of their victories.

  The army entered the gates with a clatter of hooves and jubilant cries. The crowd moved aside. The confusion and noise intensified. The men leading the army dismounted, and servants and slaves came to take their horses. The crowd swelled forward again. Rhiannon watched as Gwenaseth, Sewan and the other women all but threw themselves into their husbands' arms. The tension inside her deepened, and she was on the verge of fleeing the noisy courtyard when she heard someone call her name.

  She glanced around and saw Maelgwn coming toward her, a captivating smile on his face. She moved shyly to meet him, surprised and pleased as people stepped aside for her. She was even more surprised when Maelgwn pulled her into his arms for an ardent kiss. "Rhiannon, my love." His gruff whisper sent chills down her body, and her lips seemed to burn where his had pressed.

  Maelgwn's eyes met hers, an extraordinary, glowing blue. "I have my kingdom back, as I promised you. But that is not the only reason I am so happy. Rhiannon, I want you to be the first to meet... my son."

  Releasing her, Maelgwn gestured to a young boy waiting behind him. Rhiannon blinked, gazing in amazement at the child, who stood only a few inches shorter than she. From his soft cheeks and slender limbs, she guessed him to be about seven winters. There could be no doubt as to the child's sire. He had the same intense blue eyes as Maelgwn, the same lean, graceful build. But his coloring surely came from his mother. His soft brown hair was streaked with lighter strands, and his skin had a golden sheen. With his deep-lashed eyes and fine features, he was as lovely as a girl.

  "Rhun, this is your stepmother, Queen Rhiannon."

  The boy bowed slightly, then thrust a bunch of wilted wildflowers toward her. "My lady."

  Rhiannon took the offered bouquet and tried to smile. She was shocked, but knew she must appear pleased for Maelgwn's sake. Besides, she felt sorry for the boy. It had been overwhelming for her to meet Maelgwn's people. How much harder would it be for a child?

  Maelgwn took her hand and pulled her close as they were carried along with the crowd into the fortress. "I'll explain when we are alone," he murmured in her ear. "For now I'd best go wash. I'll meet you in the hall."

  As she headed toward the feasting hall, Rhiannon tried to gain control over the tumult of emotions assaulting her. It had all happened so fast. First, Maelgwn's eager greeting, then his startling introduction of his half-grown heir. What did it mean for her? Would Maelgwn be less eager to seek her bed now that his need for a son was not so pressing? Would he do as she'd feared and take a mistress? Rhiannon felt tension steal through her as she took a seat in the half-filled hall.

&nb
sp; A few moments later, Maelgwn sat down beside her and immediately began conversing animatedly with the soldiers around them. Rhiannon took a deep swallow of the rich wine—imported from Gaul and a rare treat even for coastal dwellers.

  "Would you have some roast lamb?" Maelgwn asked her, with his eating knife poised over her trencher. Rhiannon shook her head, too nervous to think of food. She felt Maelgwn's eyes on her face, then his hand warm and reassuring on her arm. "Don't look so sad, cariad," he whispered. "After the feasting, I will give you my full attention, I promise you."

  Rhiannon tried to smile back. She could not let Maelgwn see her anxiety over Rhun. She would concentrate on celebrating his good fortune in winning back his lands, her pleasure in her husband's safe return.

  Maelgwn was obviously overjoyed by the presence of his son. He smiled and laughed often. With the brooding intensity gone from his face, he looked even more like the boy who sat across from them, eating with relish. She must pretend she shared Maelgwn's happiness. She should also be thinking of ways to make Rhun comfortable in his new home. After all, she was his stepmother now.

  She turned to congratulate her husband, to express her relief at his return, but Maelgwn had begun a battle tale. His voice was low and serious, and everyone seated around them had stopped eating to listen.

  "I remember trying to decide if I could take on all five of them, or if I should make a run for it." Maelgwn leaned back from his food and shook his head at the memory. "Christ's name, I thought my days were numbered when I saw Rhodderi and his four sons waiting for me in the clearing. They're all red-headed—except for Rhodderi, who is going silver fast, and they looked like a pack of copper-colored wolves planning their kill, their eyes shining and their faces hot for blood."

  "Where were Balyn and Elwyn? Where were your other men?"

  Gwenaseth's question sent a shiver down Rhiannon's spine, and Balyn's angry response made her feel ill.

  "Well you might ask that. The fact is, Maelgwn was alone, unprotected and riding around in a God-forsaken bog." Balyn shot his king a look of disgust. "I hope you were scared, Maelgwn; I hope you were so scared your teeth rattled in your head. Perhaps now you'll think twice about chasing after your enemies by yourself."

  "You went after them alone? All five of them?" Gwenaseth sounded shocked.

  "Rhodderi and his sons would have gotten away if I hadn't pursued them immediately. If they had escaped and joined what was left of their men with Cynan's forces, their army would have outnumbered ours, and they certainly know the country better. The tide of the whole war was at stake. I didn't have time to worry about my own safety."

  "If you had been captured or killed, the whole campaign would have been meaningless," Balyn grumbled. "You're not some young, wild-eyed warrior, Maelgwn. You know you must keep a guard around you at all times."

  "Ah, but I knew you would come to rescue me," Maelgwn answered with a smile. "Just as you have for so many years."

  "So tell us..." old Torawc interrupted impatiently. "After you captured Rhodderi, did he agree to surrender his lands, to cease his raiding?"

  "Aye, he did. He saw the futility of resisting further. After he gave in, it was only a matter of time before the rest of the chieftains agreed to pay me homage. Men flock to follow a leader who wins, and I am winning once again."

  Rhiannon barely heard Maelgwn's exultant words. She was still imagining him cornered by five fierce, bloodthirsty soldiers. The image made her shudder with fear. She laid a hand on his arm, reassuring herself that her husband was still whole and healthy. He glanced her way, and she was once more aware of the glow of happiness that radiated from him, making him even more handsome than usual.

  Her eyes lingered on the sheen of his dark hair in the firelight, the way the skin around his eyes crinkled when he laughed. The open neck of his tunic drew her eye to his broad, muscular chest, and she remembered the bliss of nestling close to his warm strength. A rush of love filled her. She vowed she would do whatever she could to keep him content.

  The conversation returned to warfare, and Rhiannon found her attention wandering. Across from her, Rhun squirmed on the bench he shared with Elwyn and Gwenaseth, jerking around every few minutes to glance behind him. Rhiannon looked and immediately saw what drew his eyes. Maelgwn's best hound, Belga, sprawled next to the fire, surrounded by a litter of wriggling pups. Rhiannon felt a surge of sympathy for Rhun. At his age, sitting still— for more than the few minutes it took to eat—was torture. She took pity on the boy and pulled on Maelgwn's tunic.

  "My lord," she whispered when Maelgwn turned to her. "Perhaps Rhun would like to leave the table. I could show him Belga's pups."

  Maelgwn's smile was so warm and glowing, it hurt Rhiannon's eyes to look at it. "What a wonderful idea, Rhiannon. Show him the puppies—and be sure that he picks the best of the litter for his own." Leaning over to kiss her, he added, "You are both so good for me. You will keep me young forever."

  Rhiannon tapped Rhun on the shoulder and gestured wordlessly toward the dogs. The boy smiled with delight and raced to the hearth.

  "Maelgwn says you may pick one to be your own dog," Rhiannon told him as Rhun fondled one of the plump, squirming creatures.

  "In truth, I may have one?" Rhun looked up with wide-eyed wonder. "For my very own?"

  "Of course. You will need a dog when you go hunting with your father."

  "My father. That sounds so strange," the boy mused. "I'm glad I will have my own dog. I had one when we lived at Colwyn, but I had to leave it behind. My mother said it was not fair to bring it all this way."

  A dozen questions sprang to Rhiannon's lips. The boy appeared unaccustomed to having Maelgwn in his life. Could it really be true that Maelgwn had not known about the boy until recently? And what of the boy's mother? Would Maelgwn bring her to Degannwy?

  Rhiannon suppressed her questions, thinking it unfair to pry secrets from a child. She lingered beside Rhun for a moment and savored the tender scene of the soft, mewling puppies turning up their tight, milk-swollen bellies in ecstasy as Rhun petted them. Then she realized she had need of the privy and made her way across the crowded hall.

  The free-flowing wine had made the privy a popular place tonight, despite the stink, and Rhiannon had to wait her turn. She moved around to the side and stood half-hidden in the darkness, barely listening to the group of women gossiping nearby. Only when she heard the name Rhun did she take note of their hushed voices.

  "There is no doubt he is Maelgwn's son," Gwenaseth was saying. "Anyone can see by looking at him. But where did he come from? Why did Maelgwn keep him hidden all these years?"

  "I think Maelgwn is as surprised as anyone else to find he has an heir," a plump older woman named Melagran suggested. "He must have learned about Rhun only recently, or he would have brought him to Degannwy sooner. The king is clearly thrilled to have a son. He near shines with happiness this night."

  "But the boy? Who does he belong to?" a third woman broke in. "Why would his mother keep him secret until now?"

  "Dewi told me that Maelgwn presented the boy to his men soon after Rhodderi surrendered at Colwyn. He said the prince's mother is some woman named Morganna that Maelgwn knew years ago."

  "Morganna!"

  Rhiannon near jumped at the shock in Gwenaseth's voice. She crept forward from the shadows and listened more intendy.

  "Aye, I'm sure Morganna was the name."

  "Oh, I don't doubt you." Gwenaseth's voice sounded bitter. "Maelgwn often shared the bed of a woman named Morganna when he lived at Caer Eyri, even after he wed Aurora. I never heard she was with child though. It seems strange no one knew, especially Maelgwn."

  "Well, he knows now, and he has apparently forgiven this woman for keeping his son a secret all these years. Dewi told me Maelgwn has brought this Morganna to live nearby. He had his men set up her household in a fishing village up the coast."

  "Oh, poor Rhiannon," Gwenaseth sighed.

  "You think that this woman means something to M
aelgwn."

  "Aye, I suspect so. She was a beauty in a coarse sort of way. You can see some of her in Rhun. But it was her body that bewitched Maelgwn. I'm not sure Rhiannon can compete with such a voluptuous woman."

  "Oh, aye," Melagran added with a note of disgust in her voice. "Men never seem to get over their fascination with big breasts. It is as if they were still little babes, greedy to suck at their mama's tits."

  The women drifted away, and Rhiannon could no longer hear their conversation clearly. She closed her eyes, feeling the waves of disappointment wash over her. She had been a fool to let herself care so much for Maelgwn. If she had once hoped to hold her husband's interest, now she knew there was little chance of it. There was no denying that men were enthralled with generously endowed women. She recalled peeping out from her blankets as a child, watching her stepmother proudly offer her big, round, white-skinned breasts to Ferdic as she sought to entice him into loveplay. For all Ferdic's casual regard for his wife, he had not often resisted when she tempted him thus.

  Rhiannon wiped her sweaty face. If Morganna's body was not enough to lure Maelgwn, the fact that she had given him a son was sure to make him cherish her. Rhiannon wondered gloomily why Maelgwn had to discover he had a son this summer. She had so little claim upon her husband's heart. Now even that little bit was threatened.

  Rhiannon used the privy, then walked listlessly to the king's chamber. She had expected too much. She had been so happy to have Maelgwn back, to feast her eyes on his glorious handsome face and to feel his warmth next to her. Even meeting Rhun had not ruined her pleasure. Despite what his existence might mean for her own sons, she liked the boy, and she could see he made Maelgwn happy. But Gwenaseth's pitying words tore all hope from her. It would be torture to watch her husband go to another woman. Even if Maelgwn came to her bed occasionally, she would always wonder if he would not rather be somewhere else.