“There was no cause to,” Elidan said wearily. “And I was afraid then that the sisters might reject me, if they knew how powerful my enemies were.”
“We would not have rejected you had your lover been the Emperor himself. But I see why you are afraid. Such a man might bring a whole warband to take you away, and to appeal to our king would be to ask the fox for shelter from the dragon.”
“Gwalchmai would never do such a thing,” I protested.
“I once thought that Gwalchmai would never break his oath,” returned Elidan. “But he did, and my brother is dead. Now I do not know what he might do. If I went to my clan, to my half-brother Ergyriad, he would be pleased that the matter turned out so well. He would be honored if Gwalchmai were to marry me. But I will not. I cannot forgive him. I will not fall so low as that.”
“Gwalchmai only wishes to speak with you,” I insisted. “He is a good man, the best lord I could ask for. If you cannot find the Christian charity to forgive him, you ought at least tell him so to his face!”
“I have heard a great deal of Gwalchmai ap Lot—as who hasn’t?” Teleri said cautiously. “I have certainly heard, what with magic swords and horses and battle-madness, that he has more dealings with the Otherworld than is safe or fitting; but I have heard also that he is kind, a protector of the weak, and God-fearing. I do not know: it is hard to be certain of anything to do with the Emperor, here in Gwynedd, for there are men enough to tell evil tales to any who will listen. But if he were a common man, child,” and she went over to stand by Elidan, “I would say, forgive him and forget him.”
Elidan said nothing, only stared out the window.
“I swear to you, my lord will do you no harm,” I repeated again. “But if you disbelieve me—well, you will do what you wish anyway, and there’s nothing I can do to stop you. But Eivlin, none of it reflects on Eivlin. She is a brave woman, and honorable. Nor have I dishonored her, so you need not fear to keep her in this place. And if I haven’t married her yet, there’s nothing to say I won’t.”
That last surprised me, for I hadn’t thought about it before. And yet, I could do much worse for a wife, and not much better. I was quiet suddenly, considering the thought.
Teleri snorted, then laughed. “Bravely spoken! But none of us are threatening your sweetheart. Of course she will stay until she is better, and you as well, for I can’t answer even for a farmer’s thick skull if you go running about as you have been. Elidan, did you look at his head this morning?”
Elidan pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, nodded. Teleri checked again. I was sure that Teleri had been raised a farmer’s daughter.
“It is better, a little,” Elidan said while Teleri examined the lumps. “Or so I think. But you are right, he must stay and we can demand no oaths if he will not give them. We cannot punish him for another’s crime.”
Teleri nodded, retying the bandage. “Much better today. A good thick skull.”
“That is what my sister says,” I told her. “How is Eivlin?”
Elidan walked over to the bed and sat down, looking exhausted. “Her we could not have sent away. She ought to be well. She has no fever, is not chilled or shivering. She is not injured and has no signs of illness. But she feels nothing, responds to nothing, and her heart beats very slowly and unsteadily.”
Teleri pressed Elidan’s hand a moment, smiling at her, and I looked at the woman, understanding why Gwalchmai had loved her. She would not let hatred cloud her sense of honor, and had the courage to risk a great deal for what she willed; and the strength of will and nobility showed through her like a stone under the current of a river, unyielding. But she would be unyielding, I thought, if Gwalchmai came and pleaded with her. Arthur had been right. The children of Caw accounted it a dishonor to forgive.
“Indeed, and we wished to ask you about that,” Teleri said briskly. “What happened to this girl, to cause this? And no nonsense about curses.”
“But that is what caused it,” I said. Elidan’s face stayed quiet and expressionless, but Teleri leaned back, thin black eyebrows again raised up on her forehead. “It seems nonsense, and yet is true,” I insisted. “My lord had nothing to do with it, though, do not think that. Eivlin was the serving maid of the Queen Morgawse of the Ynysoedd Erch. Morgawse, and King Lot, are at Degannwy, plotting with Maelgwn Gwynedd, and my lord was sent there as an emissary by the Emperor. Morgawse had some plot against my lord, and wished to use me in it, but Eivlin helped me escape when I was captured, and for that the Queen cursed her.”
“You are saying strange things,” remarked Teleri. “But well; a curse. And the baptizing you were babbling about?”
“Eivlin was never baptized. She was born in Erin and raised in the Islands. When she started screaming, and raving about shadows attacking her, I thought it might be some help. And she did stop screaming. She fainted, and became as she is now.”
“It is certainly less noisy.” Teleri studied my face carefully. “But you believe this tale.”
“How could I not, when I suffered it?”
She looked thoughtful. “I have never held much with ghost stories. And yet, I would not call you a fool, and I have never seen anything like this illness. But still…”
“But still, it rubs against the grain to believe it. Sister, I do not like believing it myself. When it comes to fighting, I prefer real things to shadows on an empty road. But Mor-gawse’s power is real, and dangerous, as I have reason to know myself.”
“If there is sorcery about, it explains why Gwalchmai is here,” Elidan said bitterly.
“Lady, if you think Gwalchmai would worship devils, you do not remember him at all. But his mother, and his brother Medraut, and Maelgwn Gwynedd, and all at Degannwy, all wish to destroy Gwalchmai as a part of some plot against the Emperor. And if they can, and if they do destroy the Emperor as well, how much longer do you think Britain will be safe? Merciful Christ, this is a struggle of Light against Darkness, not a tale to win your sympathy!”
“Stop!” commanded Teleri, holding her hand up. “You go too deep. Now I,” she stood up, “I am inclined to believe you when you say that the girl’s trouble is a curse, though God help me for believing such a thing. I will have Father Gilla say a Mass for her, and we can all pray. It is not a means of healing I usually approve of, but it will at least do no harm. Beyond that, I do not know what to do. If she does not wake, she will die of thirst, since we cannot get her to swallow anything. But for the rest of your tale—your lord, and King Maelgwn and the Emperor and this famous witch Morgawse of Orcade—all this we will leave aside. The struggles of kingdoms are beyond us. Our task is to heal the sick, care for orphans, copy books, and farm. So much our abbey has ever done, and so much we will ever do, God willing.”
I could say nothing to that. I nodded my head, thinking about Eivlin, and then about Gwalchmai. Had he got my message? Had he understood it? Could he do anything about it?
“Perhaps,” I said, slowly, “perhaps my lord Gwalchmai might know what to do about Eivlin.”
“No!” cried Elidan. “He must not come here. He must not know that Gwyn exists.”
“Elidan!” Teleri faced the other woman. She was a good five inches shorter and far less regal, but Elidan’s firmness melted away. “Elidan, if this tale is a true one, what has happened is beyond us. It would be a grave sin to let an innocent girl die for fear of this man who might heal her. If he can help, he must come.”
“But what of my son’s life? What if he takes my son away?”
“Don’t tell him about Gwyn. Keep the child a secret. If you cannot forgive the man, do not. But I do not believe he will force you to anything, and you must consider the girl’s life.”
“Of course,” Elidan said after a long moment. “May it be for the best. Rhys ap Sion, if you think Gwalchmai can help the girl, bring him here. I will speak with him. But, as you would be saved,
do not tell him about my son.”
I hesitated. “I do not know even that I can reach Gwalchmai,” I muttered, evading the issue. “I can’t go directly back to Degannwy. The guards would not let me through the gate. But if I do reach Gwalchmai…”
“Swear that you will not mention Gwyn to him. I will trust you with it, you must see that.”
I looked at her. If she did forgive Gwalchmai, she might release me from that oath. If she did not, or if she forgave him only in a form of words…It would probably be better, then, that Gwalchmai never knew of his son’s existence. There would be nothing he could do about the child. He could hardly drag him away from Elidan. She had said she would fight with her bare hands to protect the boy, and I believed her. And she was doing what she thought right. And if Gwalchmai knew that Gwyn was his son, and was unable to keep him, it would merely be another load of undeserved misery.
“I swear I won’t mention Gwyn to Gwalchmai unless you yourself give me leave,” I told Elidan, looking into her solemn eyes. “So help me God and all the saints and angels. As I hope to be saved, I will not.”
“Then tell Gwalchmai to come. I will speak to Abbess Maire and tell her the whole situation. I will ask her to support you, and give all the help she can, for I believe your tale of Morgawse’s sorcery, and it is fitting to us to oppose it.”
“I thank you,” I said.
“Well!” Teleri put her hands on her hips. “Well done! And now that you have decided to seek this lord’s help, how is he to be reached?”
“I will go,” I said. “I can try and climb the wall at Degannwy by night. It should not be impossible.”
“You will do no such thing,” declared Teleri. “You will stay here and rest.”
“You can send a messenger with a letter,” Elidan suggested. “He can enter by the gate, as though he would sell something to the fortress.”
“I don’t know how to write,” I said.
She smiled. “Then dictate it to one of us. This is an abbey. We do teach writing here. Father Gilla can take the message in, if he’s willing; his little mare is the best horse we have. I will speak to him, and you can dictate the letter this afternoon.”
“But sleep now,” Teleri added. “You look as though you could do with the rest.”
She swept from the room, pausing only to stoop upon the food tray and bear it off with her. Elidan followed without a backward glance.
I sighed and lay back, looking at the ceiling. There were too many things to think about, and I could not rest. Every time I managed to turn my mind from Eivlin, telling myself that worrying helped nothing, I found myself wondering about Gwalchmai. Perhaps it was absurd to ask him to help us; perhaps he needed help himself. He was surrounded by enemies, with only Rhuawn as a treacherous support. I knew that Rhuawn would side with Gwalchmai against Maelgwn, but Medraut’s more subtle opposition had escaped him. He was a good man, Rhuawn, but deluded, and unlikely to come to his senses unless Medraut did something foolish. Unless Eivlin had hurt Medraut badly with that piece of firewood. That blow might delay Morgawse’s schemes for a while. I trusted Eivlin to have hit hard, and thought that Medraut’s headache might be worse than mine; and perhaps even Morgawse felt unwell. It was a cheering thought, and eventually I managed to relax and drift off to sleep.
Perhaps it was because of my head injuries, but I had nightmares.
It seemed to me that I saw Morgawse of Orcade, standing in a small, dark place, braiding her hair in a strange pattern and singing. After a while, beyond her singing, I could hear a keening, faintly at first, then louder, breaking into a dirge sung without measure in a foreign tongue. Morgawse stopped her song and laughed, her teeth showing white as she tossed back her head with pleasure. Her image faded, and the dirge grew louder. I saw a funeral procession, walking in the dark with smoky red torches wavering about. In the midst of the torches was carried a bier, with a still form lying on it, covered by a cloak. Of a sudden, the ring of mourners was broken, and Agravain ap Lot burst into the middle and flung himself down beside the bier, weeping. He buried his face in the cloak. The whole began to recede, the wailing growing fainter, and I struggled to go nearer, to know who it was on the bier because I was terribly afraid, deathly afraid that it was Gwalchmai. But the dirge faded until it was only a faint hum, like the wind, and the torch light seemed to recede back and back away. I sank into a black ocean, still struggling to follow. Then there came a crash like thunder, and I opened my eyes and saw Medraut. He was smiling.
“He appears well enough to me,” said Medraut smoothly. I looked behind him and saw that he was speaking to Teleri.
“You cannot take him,” said Teleri. Her hands were knotted together, her eyes too bright. “For sweet mercy’s sake, do you expect us to simply hand him over to you?”
“I expect that you will do what I tell you to, or else see your abbey here burned to the ground. Get up!”
I sat up, impossibly confused. I was in the same room at St. Elena’s, and it was afternoon. The same rushes lay on the floor, the stone walls had the same chipped rocks. It was not a dream: Medraut was really standing before me.
He smiled again. I noticed that his head was bandaged. “I told you to get up.”
I stood, gathering the bedclothes about me. I had only my underclothes on, since the nuns had taken my tunic and trousers.
Medraut laughed at me. “Bring him his clothes, and hurry,” he ordered Teleri.
“In Christ’s name, you cannot take him!” she said.
I was awake enough to know better. “He can. And he will fire the abbey if you don’t. Better go.”
Almost, she didn’t. She stared at me for a long moment, twisting her hands together; but then she turned and ran from the room. Medraut laughed again, looked about and sat down comfortably on the bed.
“You’ve found excellent care here,” he commented. “Not, perhaps, healing as rapid as my mother’s: but then, no doubt the treatment is pleasanter. Where’s the other slave, the one responsible for this?” He touched his bandage.
“She’s dead,” I told him, praying that he couldn’t tell otherwise. “She died yesterday. Just before sundown. She started screaming, and fell down on the road, and she is dead.”
“I thought as much.” He drew one knee up and locked his arms around it. His fair hair caught the afternoon sun, and his soft new beard gleamed against his face. Gold shone on his brooch and collar. “Mother defends her honor. The little vixen should never have dared defy her. I hope she suffered.”
I said nothing, hoping that Teleri had not mentioned Eivlin, hoping that Medraut neither knew nor was able to sense anything about Elidan and Gwyn. Teleri came back with my clothes, and I dressed rapidly and in silence.
Medraut stood, brushed off his cloak. One hand rested lightly on his sword, and I stared at the weapon. Either he had two swords with identical hilts or he had somehow recovered the one Eivlin took from him. He noticed the stare and flashed his easy smile.
“Yes. I have it back again.” He slapped the sword hilt. “A useful thing. I could show you more of it.”
I had no particular wish to see more of it. I felt sick. Had he, or Morgawse, somehow trailed me and found the message before Gwalchmai? Or had that still form in my dream indeed been Gwalchmai?
It is no use to rely on dreams and guesses. Whatever had happened to my message, it did not change the fact that I had to leave quietly with Medraut, drawing no attention to anyone at the abbey, and be prepared to fight the whole fight over again. I was glad that the thought numbed me. If it had not, I do not think I could have left the room without falling down and begging him to spare me, which might have meant disaster. The final end, I told myself firmly, is not in our hands at all. We can only do what seems to be right, and trust God for the rest.
Medraut stood beside the door and gestured for Teleri and me to leave first.
Teleri passed him proudly and briskly without looking at him. When I stepped after her, however, Medraut clouted me full on the ear. I stumbled against the door, hit the other side of my head on the frame, and fell to my knees on the floor. Teleri cried out. Medraut bent over and dragged me up by the front of my tunic.
“And that,” he said, his eyes savage, “that is for running off and shaming my mother. I can’t give you the full payment, slave, since that is her right, but it is not forgotten.”
The world was swirling about me in circles, so I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and managed to stand on my own feet. Medraut let go of me. “Show us the way out,” he commanded Teleri, who stood, frozen, her hand lifted—whether to strike or help I was unsure. Her eyes flashed and she almost retorted, but managed to check herself. We walked out of the abbey.
Medraut had a dozen mounted warriors waiting in the yard. From the corner of my eye I noticed a huddle of nuns against the wall, and Gwyn, staring at the men wide-eyed with awe. My little pony was out and saddled, and at Medraut’s order I mounted, wearily, and submitted to having my hands tied while someone else took the pony on a lead rein. Medraut swung up onto his own mount, a sleek, long-legged gray. He nodded to the nuns. “It is good that you were sensible.” He gathered up his reins. “As it is, all you have lost is one insolent servant, and not your home and your lives.”
“What are you doing to Rhys?” bellowed Gwyn. Abruptly, the boy dashed from the wall and ran towards the horses. Someone shrieked. Medraut whipped out his sword.
“What’s this brat?” demanded Medraut. “One of your bastards?” he looked contemptuously at the nuns.
Elidan walked out of the huddle after her son. “Mine,” she said, her voice calm and very clear.
“He showed me the way here,” I said, not daring to look at either of them. “He’s too young to have any sense.” I did not care to think what Medraut and Morgawse could do with the lad.
“Out of the way, brat, or I’ll cut your ears off,” said Medraut in a pleasant tone.
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