“What do you know of such things?” Catrin charged in. “You hardly touch Father and when you do, it is to maneuver him. You show more affection for Trystan.”
Rhiannon recoiled, as if struck by a venomous serpent. She raised a clenched hand, “Careful, Catrin, what you say. I serve the king with more loyalty and love than you realize. I know how strong young love can be. In life, choices are often taken out of our hands. We decide your fate!”
Catrin became reticent, regarding the nasty scowl on her mother’s face. She knew it was fruitless to continue the heated argument and thus resorted to a softer approach. “Please allow me to spend the few remaining days with Marcellus. I promise to gather more information that we can use. What harm would this be?”
Rhiannon slowly inhaled and blew out an exasperated breath. “All right, then. I only do this, so Marcellus doesn’t become suspicious of your sudden absence. Yet, for me to agree, you must keep that promise to find out more from him and a guard who speaks Latin must be with you at all times. And that guard is Belinus.”
Catrin burst out, “Not Belinus!”
“Those are my conditions!” Rhiannon met Catrin’s eyes with an icy stare. “Accept them or be confined to your bedchamber.”
Catrin’s heart trembled with the prospect she would never see Marcellus again. Though the conditions sunk like tar in the pit of her stomach, she reluctantly agreed, “I will do it. Still, you have made a big mistake in changing Father’s mandate for me to escort Marcellus.”
“Enough!” Rhiannon roared. “You brought this on yourself!”
Brimming with rage, Catrin fought for composure. “I would like to leave now and change for dinner.”
Rhiannon waved her off like a dog. “Suit yourself, go!”
Catrin wheeled around on her heels and stomped out.
24
Agrona’s Spell
A waft of sweet fragrance drew Catrin’s curiosity. She walked over to where Agrona was stroking the wolf-headed pelt and sat to rub the soft fur.
That night at dinner, Catrin noted everyone’s silence at the table, except for Cynwrig smacking his lips, the juices dripping from the corners of his mouth, as he heartily ate roasted boar ribs. Mor and Marcellus, both sullen, sat at the opposite end of the table near the queen while Catrin was seated between Belinus and Trystan and across from her was Agrona.
Catrin was unnerved by the way Agrona’s wolf eyes appeared to smile, turning green to amber in the candlelight. Sensing another entity hiding behind Agrona’s dilated pupils, Catrin visualized her with a tail wagging in predatory delight. She closed her eyes to erase the grotesque image, but opening them again, she found Agrona’s amber eyes glowing at her. Fearing the Druidess was conjuring some black magic, Catrin tore her eyes away and squeezed her shaking hands. She then concentrated on eating the roasted boar meat, turnips, and round bread set before her.
When everyone finished the meal, Rhiannon pushed her chair back and stood to explain the night’s arrangement in Celtic. “Mor’s bedchamber has been prepared for Mor and Catrin to sleep there. Although I have immensely enjoyed Mor’s companionship in my bedchamber the last couple of weeks, I would like to be alone now.”
Catrin noticed Trystan was rubbing the corner of his mouth, as if restraining a grin when her mother gazed at him.
Rhiannon continued, “Cynwrig has agreed to guard Marcellus tonight to give Belinus a break from his nightly duties. Beginning tomorrow, Belinus will be escorting Catrin and Marcellus at all times.”
Catrin noticed poor Marcellus frowning in confusion as he looked around the table trying to understand what was being said. Rhiannon gave him a smug smile and said in Latin, “Marcellus, we have enjoyed your company tonight. After Agrona presents her gifts to our family, Cynwrig will escort you back to your sleeping quarters.”
Catrin wondered why the Druidess would present gifts without the king’s presence. She warily watched Agrona step to the back corner where various animal pelts were rolled up and stacked. Agrona took the top one and unrolled it over the wooden floor. She knelt, stroking the lustrous silver fur and saying in a sultry voice, “Soft and warm.”
When Catrin gazed at the wolf-headed pelt, the image of Marcellus lying beside her on the pelt planted in her mind. When she noticed Mor and Belinus mooning over each other, an idea seeded in her mind on a way she could be alone with Marcellus. For almost a fortnight, the queen had strictly forbidden Mor to be alone with Belinus. The separation had put Mor in a sour mood. Perchance, she could lift Mor’s spirits by suggesting a way that Belinus could rendezvous with her.
A waft of sweet fragrance drew Catrin’s curiosity. She walked over to where Agrona was stroking the wolf-headed pelt and sat to rub the soft fur. A heady aroma of sweet lavender and musk released from the wool and the image of Marcellus caressing her nude hips wandered into her mind. Unsettled about the tingling sensation below, Catrin pulled her hand away and looked at Agrona who twisted her lips into a crooked smile and stood up.
The aroma continued to intoxicate Catrin and she obsessively rubbed the fur back and forth as she gazed at Marcellus. When he met her eyes, she had an overpowering impulse to keep the pelt. She rose and asked Agrona, “Can I keep this?”
The Druidess bared her teeth with a broad grin. “Of course, my love. The fox pelt is for Mor, the marten for the queen … and the black wolf for the king upon his return.”
Suddenly light-headed from the heavy aroma, Catrin felt herself floating into Agrona’s amber eyes. Panicked the Druidess was casting a spell on her, Catrin dropped her eyes. When she rose, her eyes alighted on Marcellus standing next to her. When he leaned closer to whisper, his words were drowned out by her mother’s blustery order in Latin, “Cynwrig, take Marcellus back to his room. Belinus, you are dismissed!”
Appearing frustrated, Marcellus mouthed, “See you tomorrow,” and then pivoted on his heels to follow Cynwrig out of the chamber.
A shiver shot down Catrin’s spine when she caught Agrona gawking at her like a hawk ready to swoop on its prey. Catrin hastily picked up and cradled the rolled pelt under her arm and walked out of the chamber with Mor.
25
Mor’s Secret
Every time I am in his arms … it is like I am flying,” Mor said with wistful rise in her voice. “Something has happened that could destroy us both …”
When the sisters entered Mor’s bedchamber, Catrin noticed the bouquet of flowers on the table: lavender, roses, and heather. The room had been freshly dusted and the bed covered with blankets. The strong aroma from the wolf pelt she was carrying suffused into the room. The sensual smell elicited an erotic image of Marcellus kissing her neck and below. Heart beating faster, she impulsively rubbed the splintered wall that divided Mor’s room from the makeshift cell where Marcellus had been taken.
Warm electrical pulses discharging through her fingertips lulled her into a trance.
Moments later, Mor’s shrill voice jerked Catrin out of her altered state. “What is wrong with you? Are you going to rub that wall all night?”
Catrin flicked her hands on her trousers and wiped the sweat off with her fingers. When she turned, Mor appeared as a shadow sitting on the bed.
Mor asked with a slight crack in her voice, “Did Mother summon you earlier to her chambers?”
Catrin stepped closer to see Mor’s face. “Yes, why do you ask?”
“Mother also summoned me earlier. She told me Father’s negotiations were going well … with Cunobelin … and … ” Mor paused and sniffled. “She told me that Father would soon announce the conditions of the marital pact with Cunobelin’s son.”
“Adminius?”
“Yes, Adminius,” Mor gasped. “He was pleasant enough when he stayed with us two summers ago as a ward of Father. He is handsome, but I don’t love him. And I don’t want to leave my family.”
As Catrin’s ey
es adjusted to the dim light, Mor’s teary eyes came into focus. Her sister’s distress tugged at Catrin’s heart and she asked with concern, “Does Belinus know?”
“I think he does,” Mor whimpered, “but Mother has made sure we are never alone with each other.”
“Do you love him?” Catrin immediately chastised herself for asking such a stupid question.
“You know I do. Every time I am in his arms … it is like I am flying,” Mor said with a wistful rise in her voice. “Something has happened that could destroy us both …” She almost choked on her words. “I … am … pregnant!”
Catrin’s mouth flung open. “Pregnant! How do you know?”
Mor’s face contorted with anguish. “It has been six weeks since my bleeding.”
“Maybe you are just late.”
“No, I am sure. I have been sick the last couple of mornings.”
“Have you told anyone besides me?” Catrin asked, her stomach still lurching from Mor’s disclosure.
“I haven’t even told Belinus.” Mor’s voice became unsteady, tripping and stammering at times. “If I tell Mother … I do not know what … what she will do. Earlier this month, I told her I refused to marry Adminius. It is my right as a free woman to choose … my own husband. Mother lashed out, saying ‘Father makes the final decision.’”
Mor paused, wiping some tears from her reddened cheeks. “Why would Father place all the burden of brokering a peace pact with Cunobelin on me? Why must I be the one to sacrifice my life to forge a political alliance through my marriage with a man I hardly know? The gods curse me! If Father’s negotiations fail … because of me, because I am with child, everyone will blame me. Who knows what Father and Mother might do ... to me, to Belinus. Father could disown me … flog Belinus, flog me … banish us ...” Mor’s voice faded as she sank her head into her hands, her chest heaving from loud sobs.
Sitting down, Catrin wrapped an arm around her sister. She pulled Mor closer to stroke her thick dark hair and to reassure her. “Our parents would never do that to you. Be patient. In their hearts, they know you have the right to say no to any marriage they arrange. Besides, in the eyes of Mother Goddess, you and Belinus were married the moment you first made love.”
Mor pulled away and shook her head. “Why would Father jeopardize our kingdom for my happiness? Mother never had a say about marrying him either.”
Catrin was lost for an answer. The brunt reality that Mor had no choice in the arranged marriage hit Catrin like a fist. Conflicting emotions about taking the next step with Marcellus now anguished her. If negotiations broke down with the Romans, common sense told her to forget Marcellus, but she was drawn to his flame, the light so bright she could not resist.
Mor’s chestnut-brown eyes grew big. “What if I am forced to marry Adminius? I don’t know what he would do if he finds out the child was not seeded by him. He might beat me. Cunobelin might do something worse … kill the baby! And then there is Marrock. He would stop at nothing to undermine my marriage if he felt his power threatened. He might even kill me! Chop off my head like he did those children right before he was banished. What did I do to enrage the gods?”
Catrin clasped Mor’s shaky hands between hers. “You need to tell Mother right away. It only makes sense you should marry Belinus. Nothing could be crueler than to separate him from you and his baby. Maybe Vala would be willing to marry Adminius. She is the eldest.”
Mor looked at Catrin with hopeful eyes. “Do you think so?”
“It only makes sense.” Catrin said, knowing Vala preferred the company of other women. “You need to talk with Mother now. She told me negotiations will end soon. Father needs to know about your condition before he seals the nuptial pact in blood.”
“You’re right,” Mor sighed. “I must also tell Belinus that I am carrying his child, but I need to be alone with him.”
“Maybe, I could …” Catrin hesitated.
“Say it. Do what?”
“Belinus has been charged to escort Marcellus and me on all of our rides from now on. On one of our jaunts, we could stop at the cave by the river where warriors hide during time of war. You could meet us there.”
“You would do that for me?” Mor paused and stared at Catrin. “You can’t tell anyone about Belinus and me until everything is settled, you must promise.”
Catrin pressed a forefinger to her lips. “My lips are sealed.”
Mor raised an eyebrow. “What about Marcellus?”
“Oh …” Catrin muttered, wondering how much she should disclose to Marcellus. “He will be happy just to be with me.”
Mor squeezed Catrin’s hand. “Be careful what you tell him … understood?”
“Yes, I promise,” Catrin agreed. “Everything will work out, I am sure.”
Mor smiled. “I feel better now that we have a plan. Tell Belinus that I need to meet with him the day after tomorrow. That will give me a chance to speak with Mother tomorrow and to see her reaction.”
Catrin nodded, knowing this would be her last opportunity to be alone with Marcellus.
26
Betrothal
The hairs on Catrin’s neck prickled. Something was amiss.
Next morning at breakfast, Catrin wondered why Mor had mysteriously left at dawn’s first light without leaving a message on when she would return. Had last night’s meeting between Mor and their mother turned bitter, which might explain why neither of them joined the morning meal?
Normally, Catrin would devour her favorite berries, but her stomach felt unsettled. Across the table, Belinus heartily scooped porridge into his mouth and gulped down some water from a brass cup. She could tell his sandy-brown hair, neatly combed into a tail at the back of his head, was freshly washed. The tattooed sun on his bicep appeared to flare whenever he moved. He had been in a jubilant mood since Catrin told him of Mor’s plan to rendezvous with him that morning. The promise she would watch over Marcellus while he met Mor at the cave seemed to melt his hesitancy about disobeying the queen’s order to guard them. She surmised, once Mor told him that she carried his child, he would no longer pay any mind to what Marcellus and she were doing.
Catrin nervously looked at Marcellus sitting next to her. A grin flashed across his face which made her smile back. He looked so handsome in his half-open gold shirt that revealed the Apollo amulet around his neck. She glanced down at his manly bulge in the tight, dark-leathered pants that she had made for him. When he gripped her hand below the table, she yelped. With a mischievous grin, he played with her fingertips, pulling them apart. A warm blush prickled her face. Breathing rapidly, she pulled her hand away, slamming the knuckles on the table.
“Ouch!”
Her face must have blossomed to a cherry red because Marcellus gave her an amused smile. In no mood for his games, again thinking of Mor, Catrin frowned. She hoped Mor would show up, so they could proceed with their plan.
A gray-haired, double-chinned woman holding a platter of fruit waddled into the chamber. She set the platter on the table and leaned next to Catrin to whisper, “The queen wants to see you now in her meeting chamber.”
Surprised by the unexpected summons, Catrin asked, “What is this about?”
The servant shrugged. “She only said it would not take long.”
With a sense of foreboding that something had gone terribly wrong between Mor and her mother, Catrin asked, “Did Mor leave a message for me before she left this morning?”
“She only told me that she was making an offering to the Mother Goddess,” the servant said.
This was not quite the response that Catrin expected, but she assumed the scheme for Mor to meet secretly with Belinus was still on. If Mor wasn’t at the cave, she would surely be at the Ancestral Oak praying to Mother Goddess.
Catrin rose and looked at Marcellus. “Please excuse me. My mother has summoned me. I will be back short
ly.”
He gave her a disconcerted look, but she gave him a reassuring smile and left. When she walked behind the thrones on her way to the corridor leading to the queen’s chamber, Trystan intercepted and said, “I have been asked to escort you to the queen’s chamber.”
His escort usually meant the queen had an important announcement to make, which Catrin assumed was Mor’s pregnancy. She walked alongside Trystan down the dimly lit corridor where torch flames stretched up the arched stone walls in line on both sides. At the end of the hallway, Trystan opened the door and followed her into the queen’s dank chamber.
Rhiannon stepped into the candlelight’s illumination and gestured for both of them to sit at a round table. Seating herself, Catrin noticed the webbed veins in the corner of the queen’s reddened eyes that strangely lingered on Trystan before shifting to her.
“Let me get straight to the point,” the queen began. “Mor just told me she is pregnant and that you already know this.”
Catrin squirmed in her chair. “I just found out. Mor wanted to tell you.”
Rhiannon sighed, the wrinkles deepening around her eyes. “I was up all night with Mor discussing the difficult decisions she must make. I advised her to seek advice from Mother Goddess on what she should do with the child.”
The first idea that came to Catrin’s mind was Mor had been given the choice to ingest pennyroyal to abort the baby, an act frowned upon in her village where children were cherished and often mentored by other villagers after they reached a certain age. Perhaps her mother would grant Belinus custody of the child, leaving Mor unencumbered to marry Adminius. That seemed the most viable choice, the more she considered it. At least Belinus would be given the child to care for. Catrin hesitated saying anything until she knew more about her mother’s feelings on the matter.
Rhiannon pulled a scroll out of her sleeve and set it on the table. She tightly folded her hands on the dingy tabletop and said, her voice sometimes grating, “Last night, I agonized on what I should do with Mor. Then, this morning, I received a message from your father elaborating the final terms of the marital pact with Cunobelin. When I read it, I thanked Mother Goddess for showing me the way out.”
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