Rhiannon chewed her bottom lip uneasily but did not argue. Everything Arianhrodd said made sense, but she felt unsettled and uneasy about the plans for the ceremony. Maelgwn would be there. He would be watching her. What was to say he would not try to carry her back to Degannwy by force and hold her prisoner? The thought terrified her. Never to wander the beach again, never to go off to the woods by herself—she would die if she were trapped within the four square walls of Degannwy.
Surely Maelgwn would not do that to her. He was not an utterly selfish man. He wanted her to be happy. He cared that much for her. A stab of longing went through her, and she wondered again if she could continue to defy her husband's wishes. He was so strong, so compelling. When he confronted her in the hut, it had been a terrible struggle not to give in to him. She loved him so desperately, so passionately. If only she could have him, and keep her own soul as well.
She looked up. Arianhrodd was watching her with a look of compassion. "You're still troubled. Is it because of Maelgwn?"
Rhiannon nodded.
"He's very special. It's rare for the Lady to reveal herself to a man."
Arianhrodd met Rhiannon's startled gaze with a knowing look. "It's true. He experienced Her power when he was with you in the cave. I said the drug would give him visions, and it did. He journeyed very far for someone untrained."
Rhiannon took a deep, steadying breath. "I thought he behaved rather oddly. Never said a word, merely dragged me away to the cave and began to make love to me. His passion was even fiercer than usual, but I thought..." She blushed. "I thought it was because he was so glad to see me."
"Oh, there was that, too, I'm sure. But the Goddess was with him. He saw Her, felt Her. For a time, he believed he mated with the Lady Herself."
"But that's unfair!" Rhiannon put a hand to her mouth, shocked by her outburst. "I didn't mean that... it's only..."
Arianhrodd's dark brows rose. "You're jealous of Maelgwn's knowledge of the Goddess? Why?"
Rhiannon turned away, clenching her jaw. She had imagined she had some special relationship with the Goddess, but even in that Maelgwn outdid her. As a man and a king, he had great power—why should he receive the Goddess's gifts as well? "It's stupid of me to think such things," she said.
"Feelings are not stupid, Rhiannon. They must be accepted and understood."
"I don't understand any of it. I love Maelgwn so much, but I resent him as well. I think a part of me wants to hurt him, just as he did me."
Arianhrodd nodded. "That is only natural. He caused you great distress, even physical harm. You must express your anger about what he did, then let go of it."
"But how can I know he won't hurt me again?"
"You can't know that. All love is a risk."
Rhiannon was silent. She could feel the anger and bitterness welling up inside her, twisting her insides into an aching knot.
"If you think on it, you will realize Maelgwn has risked a great deal for you," Arianhrodd said. "He has agreed to put aside his anger at his sister. He imperiled his life when he took the drug and went to the spirit world to look for you."
"I want to take it," Rhiannon said abruptly. "I want to take the drug myself. I want to go to the other side."
"That would not be wise."
"Why?"
Arianhrodd's face was sorrowful, tender. "Besides the fact of your small physical size and delicacy and the damage the drug might do to your body, I don't think your spirit is ready to visit the spirit world."
"You had no such doubts of Maelgwn."
"Maelgwn had already confronted the darkness in his heart. There was nothing in him he had not faced before. But you—Rhiannon, there are so many things that weigh down your spirit and confuse you. I don't think you are ready for them to be revealed."
"And so, you make that choice for me. Like Maelgwn, you seek to protect me, to cage me in this world!" Rhiannon gave a sigh of frustration and stretched her arms out in a gesture of longing. "I want to know the magic. To make the journey to the other side. If I do not do it, I will never be free."
Arianhrodd nodded slowly. Her eyes were brooding, velvety dark. She looked as if she might weep. "Do what you must, Rhiannon. But I can't aid you. If you seek the other side, you must find the way there yourself."
Chapter 29
"Cynan's at the gate."
Maelgwn looked up with surprise. "What's he doing here?"
Eleri shrugged. "He said he had a summons from you."
Maelgwn rose quickly and left the council room, trying to recall any message he had sent to the chieftain who guarded the far southeastern coast of Gwynedd. He had been busy with plans for the ceremony, and all the fortress had been in turmoil since Gwenaseth's desertion, but surely he would remember sending out a summons.
"Maelgwn!" Cynan greeted him heartily. The chieftain's bony, hawklike face was amiable, but a hint of worry glinted in his eyes. "It's not the Irish, is it? We've had several raids ourselves, but nothing to call out a war troop for."
"Nay, the problem is under control here." Maelgwn saw the questioning look in Cynan's amber eyes and inwardly cringed. Blessed Jesu, what was he to do? It seemed discourteous to tell the man he had sent no message.
Cynan's gaze probed a little longer, then softened. "Rhys reached me three days ago. Can't say I mind making the journey. After sitting around my own hearth all winter, this is exactly what I need. The weather's fine, too."
Maelgwn was silent. He would welcome Cynan into the hall, and offer him some of the food prepared for the feast. He could explain later—when he thought of something to say.
He had barely sent a slave for some water for Cynan to wash with when another shout came from the gate. The old mountain warrior, Drun, came traipsing in, accompanied by a small escort of men as fierce and gnarled-looking as the craggy highlands themselves.
"Damn you, Maelgwn, this summons had best be important. The sheep are lambing up in the hills. If the weather weren't so mild, we'd never dare leave the flocks."
Despite Drun's harsh words, he wore a smile, and Maelgwn moved to meet him with a feeling of genuine warmth. He could hardly ask for a more solid ally than Drun. The mountain man had fought beside Cadwallon in the old days and never wavered in his loyalty since.
Maelgwn greeted each man in Drun's escort in turn, then led them into the hall. He whispered a few words in Eleri's ear, and the sentry dashed off to the kitchen to see that their guests were brought food and drink. Servants soon filed in with platters of fresh bread with honey, chunks of garlic-flavored cheese, and a large pot of dried apples boiled with spices. It was hardly an extravagant repast, but the visitors eyed the food with obvious pleasure.
Maelgwn's stomach was too convulsed with anxiety for him to even think of eating. These men had come a considerable distance; he must somehow make their journey worthwhile. He thought of using the ceremony as a reason for the summons, then discarded the idea. Drun would be insulted at being asked to leave his precious sheep for a religious festival, and any plan to honor one of the old gods would upset the devoutly Christian Cynan. He had to think of something else, some serious political crisis to explain why he called them to Degannwy.
The food was served, and Eleri came in with the announcement of another arrival. Maelgwn went out to discover Rhodderi and three of his sons waiting sullenly inside the fortress gate. The hair on Maelgwn's neck stood on end as he approached them. Rhodderi was the last person he wanted to see. Good God, had Rhys carried a message to every chieftain in Gwynedd inviting them to Degannwy?
As the day wore on, it appeared that Rhys had done exactly that. Every little while, there was a new arrival. Arwystl, Caw, Hyel, even ancient Cuneglassus—they wandered in on horseback, on foot, some accompanied by escorts, others alone. Elwyn was the last to arrive. He met Maelgwn's gaze uncertainly as he rode through the gate, then dismounted and embraced him. Maelgwn felt his eyes dampen. He wanted to tell Elwyn that Rhiannon was not dead, and ask if he and Gwenaseth would consider ret
urning to Degannwy. There was no time. A hall full of chieftains waited.
The constant commotion at least served the purpose of delaying his need to explain the summons. By now, the visiting chieftains assumed he intended to announce his plans to them as a group. If he pretended that all summoned had not yet arrived, he could hold off his announcement until the morrow. Tonight he would distract them with the wine.
His mind worked furiously during the evening meal and the entertainments afterwards. Several of the chieftains pulled him aside and tried to get an inkling of his intentions, but he put them off firmly. They would all know when the others did, he insisted.
He was grateful he had so many musicians available to keep up the festive atmosphere; they were as great a boon as the wine. As the night wore on, most of the visitors appeared to have forgotten the serious purpose of the gathering. They ate and drank heartily, obviously enjoying themselves.
Maelgwn waited until his guests were well into their cups, then left the hall. He had a serious problem to solve, and he planned to begin by confronting the man he suspected was responsible for the whole mess.
He found Balyn outside the stables. Maelgwn's first officer gave him an uneasy look. "I was just seeing to our guests' horses," he said.
Maelgwn resisted the urge to slam Balyn into the rough wood of the stable wall. For hours, he had racked his brain, trying to figure out who was behind the summons. Rhodderi's appearance had put him off track, making him wonder for a time if his reluctant ally had contrived this false message to embarrass him. But Rhodderi's manner was as curious and puzzled as that of the other chieftains. Maelgwn did not think even the Old Wolf could feign innocence so convincingly.
That left only a troublemaker from within the fortress, and Rhys would never come up with such a plan alone.
"Someone has sent a message to all the Cymry chieftains asking them to assemble at Degannwy," he told Balyn tersely. "What do you know of it?"
Balyn blinked once, then set his mouth in a stubborn line.
"Lludd's name, Balyn, I'm too old to beat the truth out of you! No one but Rhys knows how to make my mark, but he couldn't have done this thing alone. It had to be you who sent the message. I want to know why!"
Balyn's mouth worked. "I... I couldn't let you go through with it... I couldn't let you do such a despicable thing!"
"What?" Maelgwn barked.
"The ceremony, the filthy rite honoring the Goddess."
"You did this to stop the ceremony?"
"Aye."
"But why? You know this is my only chance to win back Rhiannon."
"Rhiannon is dead!"
"But she isn't, I tell you. I saw her, I held her in my arms. I spoke to her."
Balyn shook his head. "It was a dream, a wicked vision meant to turn you away from the true God. Rhiannon is dead. Until she walks into the fortress and I see her for myself, I will believe that."
"So, you sent for all the Cymry princes, hoping that with them here, I would delay the ceremony?"
"Not delay, give up the idea altogether."
"I see. And now that they are gathered, what do you mean to tell them?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know!" Maelgwn could hardly contain his rage. "You fool! If we don't think up some good reason for summoning them, I'll be the laughingstock of Britain. If you care anything at all for the country we've built up together, you'd best help me quickly think of a plan."
"I will, I will." Balyn nodded rapidly.
Maelgwn felt his anger drain away, replaced by despair. Balyn had betrayed him. The one man he had always counted on had embroiled him in a wretched muddle that might cost him both his newly won power and the woman he loved. He numbly shook his head. "Why did you do this to me?"
"I told you..."
"...a bunch of inane and superstitious horse dung. I want to know why you oppose this ceremony so much. I accept that you don't believe in the Goddess, that you think I am wasting my time trying to win Rhiannon back. But this deliberate, vicious meddling—what horrifies you so much that you would betray the trust and friendship of a lifetime?"
Balyn was near to breaking down. Maelgwn could see the quiver of his jaw, the sheen of tears in his great brown eyes.
"You were planning to honor an ancient vile faith," Balyn whispered. "The very thought of it makes my skin crawl."
"You despise the Goddess that much?"
Balyn nodded convulsively. "She represents the darkness of the past. She controls the waves that drown men, the rain that floods the valleys and washes away our homes and crops. She shrivels the grain so we starve. She is Life, but She is also Death. I believe in a God who has conquered Death, has transcended it. Christ offers us something beyond this life, beyond the suffering and hopelessness."
Maelgwn sighed. How did anyone understand another man's beliefs? The Christian faith had failed to heal him or to hold his heart, but Balyn seemed obsessed by it.
"I can accept your beliefs, but not that you have imposed them on me," Maelgwn said bitterly. "It was not the ceremony itself which mattered, but the chance to win Rhiannon back. Now, I may have lost her forever."
"You're giving up the idea of the ceremony?"
"I must. The wine is half gone. The fortress filled with men who would be as repulsed by the ceremony as you are. I will have a feast tomorrow. I will feed my people and provide entertainment, but there will be no calling down of the Goddess." He sighed again.
"Why does having Rhiannon back matter so much?" Balyn asked. "What good did she ever do you? She lost the only babe she ever conceived. She brought the ugliness of Esylt's betrayal back into your life. You're better off without her."
"She made me happy, Balyn. She brought me peace. Haven't you ever loved a woman?"
"I guess not. At least I've never known one whose interests I would put completely above my own."
Maelgwn turned away. He felt empty, lost. He should stay with Balyn and try to figure out some way to explain things to his guests, but he had no heart for it. His kingdom would have to take care of itself for tonight. Rhiannon— she was what mattered.
He slipped into the stables and saddled Cynraith, then left the fortress and took the now-familiar eastern road. It was a heartbreakingly lovely night, radiant with moonlight and warmed with a soft wind that whispered of springtime. The very loveliness of it increased Maelgwn's agony. If all had gone as planned, he might soon be enjoying Rhiannon's beauty by the moon's silver enchantment.
He put the despair from his mind. He would not grieve before it was necessary. By the time he reached the lonely stretch of beach where Arianhrodd's hut stood, he felt a vague sense of hope. Rhiannon was alive, and she had not refused to see him. That, in itself, was something.
He dismounted and stood staring at the small daub and wattle structure. Around the edges of the hide door, he could see the glow of the firelight. He pushed the door aside and leaned down to look in. Arianhrodd and the swarthy fishermen were in bed. They sat up and stared at him as he peered in the doorway. There was no sign of Rhiannon.
Maelgwn motioned to Arianhrodd, indicating that she should come out to speak to him. Then he extricated himself from the tiny doorway. In a moment, Arianhrodd appeared. She wore only a short tunic, and the breeze whipped her unbound hair.
"I've come to tell you," Maelgwn said. "There is no way the ceremony can take place."
Arianhrodd raised an eyebrow questioningly.
"It's not my choice," Maelgwn continued. "There are others involved. I can't make them participate in something they don't believe in."
Arianhrodd said nothing.
"Tell me where Rhiannon is."
"She's gone away. She plans to journey to the other side."
"What? Where is she going?"
"You have made the journey yourself. You must know what I mean."
Maelgwn's eyes widened, and his body tensed. Some men—and women—trained for years to learn how to leave their body and visit the other realm. Others
used powerful and dangerous drugs, such as he had taken when he made his own journey in search of Rhiannon. But the easiest, and most accessible pathway to the other side was to experience death, or near death.
"You fear for her?"
Arianhrodd nodded. "I warned her against it, but she would not listen. She is determined to do this thing. She feels angry, trapped in a life she does not believe she has chosen."
"Did I... did I do this thing to her?"
Arianhrodd shook her head. "Your betrayal flung her onto this pathway, but the fault is not yours to bear alone. She feels trapped by the lies that have shaped her life. She does not understand that her freedom cannot be taken away by others. She does not know she has choices."
"What can I do? Where shall I look for her?"
"I can't tell you that."
Maelgwn stared at Arianhrodd, recalling the cozy image of the priestess in bed with her lover. "Why didn't you follow her or try to change her mind? How can you pretend all is well when Rhiannon's life is in danger?"
"There are worse things than death, King Maelgwn. Don't you know that yet?"
Maelgwn shivered as he took leave of Arianhrodd, although the night was unseasonably warm. No matter how he tried to tell himself that Arianhrodd was right, that death was not the end, his heart protested. He loved Rhiannon. He needed her in this world.
He glanced back at the fisherman's hut. He had forgotten to tell Arianhrodd the reason he sought Rhiannon this night. He had decided to accept Rhiannon on her terms. No longer would he claim Rhiannon as his wife or seek to have her return to Degannwy. He would meet with her whenever or wherever Rhiannon wished, but he would not pursue her against her will. If he gave Rhiannon her freedom, perhaps she would accept some part of his love.
A sob wrenched through him. If only his decision had not come too late!
Arianhrodd was right, Rhiannon thought wearily as she walked along the moonlit beach. She had not faced the darkness that dwelled inside her. It was there, a choking, overwhelming rage that threatened to drown her. All the lies, the betrayals, the disappointments of her life. She was angry at everyone. Not only Ferdic and Narana for failing to love her, and Llewenon for hurting her. But even Esylt, who loved her but perversely bound her to Maelgwn. And Gwenaseth, who protected her and comforted her but could not accept that she could not be a queen. And especially Maelgwn, who cherished her and brought her deep pleasure—and fought unceasingly to possess her soul.
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