This was the first time I was seated in the hostess’ place next to my father at the main table. He asked me to lead the prayer before we ate, so I offered up the small, general grace that includes all deities and offends none.
It seemed odd not to be helping with the serving, and I kept looking for Kevin, hoping to exchange a conspiratorial glance, but I couldn’t find him. Tristan was talking earnestly at me, so I turned my attention back to our guest.
“I notice that you began your feast with a pagan prayer,” he said, picking up a whole loaf of bread from the tray on the other side of the table. “Can it be that Rheged is not a Christian country?”
“We have some followers of the new god,” I answered, “but there are also those who prefer Mithra, or the Goddess, or the various local gods. I like this grace because it calls on the Spirit of the Place, and that can be whatever one wishes.”
Tristan frowned slightly and gnawed on the heel of the loaf.
“Your father has done nothing to stop the Old Ways, then?” he inquired, his mouth full.
“Of course not,” I said, surprised at the idea that a king might insist all of his people follow the same religion. “My father has always felt that each man should be free to choose his gods or goddesses. Isn’t it the same in King Mark’s realm?”
“Oh, no, our king is a Christian, and all the people who can trace their lines back to the great Roman families are Christian too. Why, no one would think of performing the Goddess’ rites at King Mark’s court.”
The sanctimonious tone of his voice irritated me, and before I knew it I heard myself saying, “What a pity. I was at Her Sanctuary just yesterday and found it very powerful and moving. Perhaps if your king would take the time to explore the matter, he would have a different attitude. It’s possible we could arrange an introduction to the Lady, if you wish.”
The young man’s shock was written all over his face, and I thought for a moment he was going to inch his chair away from me lest I contaminate him further.
My father was looking at me with consternation and I tossed my head back in high good spirits. I had managed to put an end to King Mark’s interest in this child-bride without saying a word that wasn’t true or making a decision that was insulting. The ease of it all amused me, and I had trouble stifling a grin.
Later, when the lack of sleep and the constant ache of my shoulder began to deflate my buoyant good humor, I asked to be excused and made my way back to the bathhouse for a nap. Brigit was in the courtyard, supervising the washing of dirty platters, and I paused to speak with her.
“I didn’t see Kevin,” I began. “Was he too worn out to get up today?”
She glanced up, the deep-set lines of the morning returning to her mouth and her eyes red with weeping.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I stammered as she grabbed me roughly by the arm and pushed me toward the stairs.
When we were in my room, she sat down on the bed and gestured for me to sit beside her. Then she took both my hands in hers and without looking at me, said simply, “Kevin’s gone.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” My voice came out as a whisper.
“Just that, Gwen. He’s gone. Left. Run away. I…I can’t say it was a total surprise when Rhufon told me, but…but I wish it hadn’t happened.” A tear began to make its way slowly down her cheek and she made no effort to brush it away.
“I don’t understand. Why…why should he leave?”
“For a lot of reasons, I think. He…he said he had become more fond of you than was reasonable. And he got very upset when I told him about the suitors and such. He also felt terribly guilty about your not getting home until almost dawn last night. He had not met his responsibilities in looking after you, and your father would have every right to have him flogged if he chose.”
Brigit paused, and shook her head sadly. “Kevin felt it brought shame on our family, and that last night might bring shame on you if your suitors are Christian. You know that virginity is important to us…and what with all of his own feelings for you…” Brigit’s voice trailed off, and she squeezed my hands tightly, but still didn’t look at me.
“Well all that nonsense about virginity is just that, nonsense!” I said hotly. “I’m just as much virgin now as I was two days ago, and anyone who thinks otherwise just because we couldn’t get home before nightfall is looking for that famous Christian obsession, ‘sin.’”
I had forgotten that Brigit was a Christian, so galling was the idea that someone else’s religious beliefs should impinge on the fate of the people closest to me.
“Well,” I said with a sigh, “where did he go? And when will he be back?”
Brigit didn’t say a word, but finally turned and looked directly at me, and my heart stopped.
“He’s not coming back,” she whispered finally.
“We’ll ask him to,” I declared, unwilling to hear what she was telling me.
“How? He told no one when he left, or where he was going. He can’t go back to our family, for he was given over as a hostage and has now broken the trust of that pledge. Even if he contacted them, they wouldn’t help him, a fact he understands well enough. And he dare not go to any of the steadings where we hold court, for the people would recognize him and turn him over to your father…and he’d be right back in the very position he ran away from to begin with. No, there’s no way to reach him; by his own actions he’s made himself an outlaw.”
I had not thought of that, and now I sat in stunned silence as Brigit broke into sobs. Tears fell down her cheeks as she continued.
“Rhufon offered to ride out looking for him, but since he’s on foot he needn’t stay with the paths, so that seems futile.”
“He didn’t take Gulldancer?” I asked dully, wondering what sort of chance a crippled boy without a horse had of surviving in the forest.
“No”—Brigit shook her head—“nor Ailbe either. He took nothing except for the clothes on his back and his dagger. I think he felt it was a matter of pride to leave with no debts owed.”
“Did you know he was going to do this?” I recalled how haggard she had looked this morning and thought it possible she had spent the night trying to dissuade her kinsman from such folly.
“No, not exactly.” Her sobs had quieted, and she let go of my hands to brush away the last of the tears. “I knew he was quite upset, even when you first got home, but when he discovered the strange horses stabled in the barn, and heard that they belonged to men come to court you in their king’s name…that’s when he really became distraught. He cried when he talked about you, and how he wished things could have been different, but before I left him he was calm and seemed more at peace with his moira.” Her voice went husky again. “I should have guessed what he intended when he asked me to remember him in my prayers.”
I lay back across the bed, suddenly too depleted to say anything. The thought of Kevin running, alone and outlawed, away from the future I had just begun to think about seemed unbelievably cruel. I stared, dry-eyed and aching, at the roof above and wondered if this was a further punishment from the Lady.
Brigit got up and began to unlace my shoes, and when I sat up she undid the girdle at my waist.
“Things will be better tomorrow,” she murmured, helping me out of my dress, “after we both get some sleep.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind and come back,” I whispered, clinging to the idea that it was a giant misunderstanding. I was too weary to think about it further, and with a whimper crawled under the covers and let Brigit tuck me in. She sat beside me for a bit, until I fell asleep.
I must have been exhausted, for I slept all that afternoon and through the night; but it was a fitful time, for I was searching in my dreams for some thing or place which I could never find. And always there was the Lady, rising with her strange, cold laugh to block my passage.
At first light I awoke, aware with a sinking misery that something terrible had happened even before I remembered what it was.
>
I got up and made my way to the pasture to see Featherfoot, for I had not had time to check on her since our night’s ride.
Rhufon was already out with the horses, changing the poultice on my mare’s foreleg.
“How’s she doing?” I asked, running my hand along her jaw. She bobbed her head and snuffled into my shoulder affectionately.
“Nothing that won’t mend, Missy,” the Horse Master said. He crouched next to her foreleg with a warm herb pot nearby. I watched as he carefully applied handfuls of the limp, dripping leaves to her leg, then carefully covered the area with a strip of clean fleece. “I hear you got a bit bruised yourself,” he added without looking up.
“Some,” I admitted. “How’s Gulldancer?” It was as close as I could come to asking about Kevin.
“Fine, nothing wrong with him. I think we’ll take him up to Stanwix and put him out to pasture there, now the young man is gone.”
I nodded, feeling the lump rise in my throat, and blinking hastily, leaned against Featherfoot’s neck and watched Rhufon work. With long-practiced skill he drew the linen bandage around the fleece and began to braid the fabric tails into a neat, flexible seam. I knew from experience that it was a more delicate job than it looked, for the tension needs to be enough to keep the poultice from slipping, but not so much as to hinder the blood flow. Kevin and I had spent hours practicing on each other’s wrists in order to get the hang of it.
“Do you know where he went?” I ventured at last, when I thought my voice would be steady.
“No, Missy, except that he was most determined no one should go looking for him.” Rhufon sat back on his heels and surveyed his work, then glanced up at me. “Your father is very concerned about the boy’s welfare, but we had a long talk, Brigit and the King and I, and agreed this is how Kevin wanted it.”
I nodded again, and my old friend continued to watch me from under his scruffy eyebrows.
“I tell you, child, all things heal with time,” he said, “even a young person’s rage against the Fates.”
And so the matter was dropped. I wandered down to the kennels, where Ailbe was still chained, and sat down beside the big dog. He looked up briefly, doleful eyes scanning my face with reproach, as though asking why I did nothing in the face of this calamity. At last he sighed and lowered his head to his paws again. I stroked him and talked to him for a bit, but could not rouse any kind of response. Perhaps he too thought it was a bad dream and if he waited long enough he’d wake up.
Later in the day, when our guests had departed, I sought out Rhufon and asked how the dog was doing.
“He’s pining, Missy. Pining for the young man. He didn’t eat last night, or this morning, and even when I let him off the chain I can’t get him to take an interest in anything.”
“Would he be able to catch up with Kevin, if we turned him loose?” I asked.
Rhufon looked at me very thoughtfully for a long time, then shrugged one shoulder. “I expect so, if the dog knows he’s got permission to go.”
“How do you give him permission?”
“Well,” my mentor said, rubbing his stubbly chin and frowning, “I suppose I could take something of the boy’s, something with his scent on it, and give it to the dog to smell. And then I could take him to the gate, and try telling him to go find Kevin…”
Rhufon’s voice trailed off, and he glanced toward the kennels.
“Good,” I said firmly. “You do that. Do that when the rest of the household is gathered for the main meal, so that the dog doesn’t get distracted.”
The Master of the Horse had dropped his gaze while I was talking, but now he studied me carefully.
“Is that an order, Missy? You know the dog’s valuable, and he was a gift to the King from the Irish family themselves. I don’t want to go losing something of the King’s, you know.”
I had never thought about giving anyone an order before, but now I looked directly at my old friend and said urgently, “Yes, Rhufon, it’s what I want you to do, and I will take the responsibility for it if there is any difficulty. Besides,” I added, “how much good is a dog who starves to death in mourning for his lost master?”
So that afternoon, when the rest of us were eating around the tables, Rhufon took the big, shaggy beast out beyond the gate and turned him loose. Later he told me Ailbe just sat next to him for a bit, staring at nothing with a hopeless, patient misery. But after Rhufon held one of Kevin’s shoes under his nose and then dragged it along the path, bringing it back for him to smell and then placing it down on the path again, the dog’s ears suddenly lifted and he got to his feet.
“At first he seemed to be casting about randomly, but last I saw of him he was well on some trail, Missy,” Rhufon said, the hint of a smile crinkling his eyes. “In summer the scent lasts quite a spell, so I think the young man may have company before nightfall.”
It was a thought I clung to through all the day, and after going to bed that night, I begged the Gods to protect the two of them together.
Chapter XXIV
Lavinia
I entered my father’s chamber with apprehension lying heavy in my stomach. There was no indication why he had summoned me, but whether it was because of Kevin’s leaving or our escapade at the Lake or the loss of Ailbe, he had a right to be angry, and I approached the confrontation with dread.
The western windows were open, and the soft sound of the doves’ cooing drifted in on the summer breeze. Rheged’s King was staring intently at a schedule of breeding that was spread out on the table and seemed unaware of my presence when I came to stand beside him. When he didn’t look up, I too began to scan the schedule, mentally tracing Featherfoot’s line, until I realized my parent had shifted his attention and was studying me.
“What ever got into you the other day, child?” he asked, his tone more puzzled than accusatory. “Surely you knew those men were Christian and would take affront at your suggestion they should meet the Lady?”
I shrugged and looked down at my hands, unable to frame an answer. With my mind full of other, more important things, I had forgotten my exchange with King Mark’s nephew as soon as it had achieved its purpose.
“And since when have you become a champion of the Lady?” my father went on, sinking down into his chair and gesturing for me to be seated, “I never thought you were that keen on her yourself…”
“I know, Father.” I nodded, wondering where to begin. “And I’m sorry if I was rude to our guests. Really I am. I was so scared at the thought you were going to send me away to become a stranger’s wife. It’s…it’s not what I want to do, Sire.”
The royal response was quick and indignant.
“Not want? What ever does ‘want’ have to do with it? There’s many things that monarchs, whether they be kings or queens, must do that aren’t what they personally want. And sometimes marriage is one of them.” He paused for a moment, and seemed to change course. “Kaethi tells me you set much store by the Irish boy, and that you’re upset over his running away…”
I sat very still, not knowing where this new thought was going. If my father connected Kevin with my dismissal of the suitors, he could well put a price on the Irish boy’s head.
“Well, you can rest easy on that account, child. I’ll not send out a death warrant for him, nor is he to be banned from human contact. It’s unfortunate, of course, and I’m sorry that it’s happened, but you can’t let something like that distract you from your duty. Life does go on,” he added, looking down at the ring Mama had given him.
Apparently my parent thought of Kevin’s and my relationship as no more than a childhood friendship. This certainly was not the time to suggest that it could be more, much more, and I let out a sigh of relief, glad the King was not going to pursue the matter.
“Now that you’re coming up to marriageable age,” he went on, “there are bound to be more men come round to take a look at you, and some, I’ll warrant, will offer their hands and crowns as well. Such matters involve tact, a
nd duty, and you can’t just go driving them away for the sport of it.” He paused again. “If only your mother were here, I’m sure she could explain it better…”
“Hah,” I snorted, “she would understand better than anyone else! Don’t forget, she was being sent off to marry someone she’d never met when she agreed to run away with you. She knew well enough what it is to be traded off like a piece of cheese for political advantage…”
My father shot me a quick, hard look, and one eyebrow went up.
There was a long minute when I held his gaze, refusing to back down, and he finally sighed audibly and looked away.
“Will it help if I promise not to make any commitments for you without consulting you first? We will go over all the pros and cons together when the time comes. But the present problem is how to keep you from alienating half the kingdoms of Britain with your quick tongue; I can’t have you dishing out bright, spritely chatter that’s full of toads and adders where company is concerned. And,” he said very slowly and firmly, “while they might think you don’t realize what you’re saying, I know perfectly well you do.”
I bent my head in the hope that he would not read the expression on my face, for I was at odds not so much with him as with the Fates who had made things so complicated all of a sudden. If only Kevin hadn’t run away, it would all have been so simple!
“Let’s make an agreement,” my father suggested finally. “I won’t force you to accept anyone’s hand if you truly and deeply dislike him, and you won’t play fast-and-loose with our reputation for hospitality and good manners. That should ease some of the burden where you’re concerned, and would be a vast relief for me as well.”
I nodded my assent without looking up.
“Is it agreed?” he asked, unwilling to accept the mute response of a child.
Child of the Northern Spring (Guinevere Trilogy) Page 25