The clouds shifted, and there was a faint glow of moonlight showing through the trees. Maelgwn’s horse started as the ghostly paleness of a wood owl swept past them in the night, but his hands were sure on the reins. They were almost there. Maelgwn could see Abelgirth’s stronghold in the distance—perched on a high cliff above the coast. The smell of the sea was in his nostrils, and he could almost ride blind, floating on the night air like a boat upon the seafoam.
Abelgirth was still abed when Maelgwn arrived at Llanfaglan and was escorted to his chambers. A dusky-skinned, raven-haired girl was with him, and she glared at Maelgwn coldly before stalking off naked, affording him a tantalizing view of her dainty heart-shaped buttocks as she walked away.
“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” Maelgwn said coyly as Abelgirth grunted and began to to rouse himself.
“Nah, nah. It has been years since I felt the urge again in the morning.” Abelgirth hauled his bulk out of the bed to sit on the edge of it and rub his eyes sleepily. “What is it Maelgwn? Is it war? My daughter? What—that you should ride here so early?”
“It’s none of that. I’ve just come to escort you back to Caer Eryri for the wedding and Lughnasa.”
“And rode all night to do it, by the looks of you! Good god man, you could have sent one of your men, an escort wasn’t even necessary. Besides...” he added as he stood and stretched. “I thought you were still visiting the Brigantes.”
“Aye, I just returned from there yesterday.”
Abelgirth stopped and stared at Maelgwn’s dusty, weary face and bloodshot eyes. “Don’t play games with me Maelgwn, clearly something is wrong. Did all not go well with Cunedda?”
Maelgwn shifted restlessly, the fatigue was catching up with him. “There was an unpleasant incident with Aurora, but I don’t think it will have lasting damage.”
“What happened?”
“Somehow Cunedda’s son, Ferdic, got the idea to present Aurora with a trophy head—a gift worthier than gold they say. You can imagine her reaction.”
“Can I not, though,” Abelgirth chortled. “I know how my Gwenaseth would react to such a thing. Did your wife jump up and scream? You can hardly hold such behavior against a fair-born woman.”
“Nay, I do not, and yet I am reminded again just how ill-chosen my new bride has turned out to be.”
“What is this? The last time I saw you, you seemed besotted with the lass. For some men it might just mean the newness had worn off, but you—I counted you more loyal than that, even in the bedchamber.”
Maelgwn laughed harshly. The glimmer of a smile was gone from his face, and he looked more tired than ever. “Make no mistake, Aurora still makes my blood run hot. Perhaps that is the problem. I do not like to be in thrall to a mere woman.”
“What has she done to send you out into the darkness like a man fleeing an evil spirit?”
Maelgwn sat down heavily on a stool in the bedchamber.
“She quarrels with Esylt, defies me and then tries to win back my favor with her alluring body. I am tired of her manipulations.”
“It seems to me that she is using the only weapons she has to make a place for herself at Caer Eryri. It cannot be easy for her with Esylt there.”
“She is only a woman. It’s not her place to make demands.” Maelgwn retorted bitterly. “I’ll not have my wife rule me!”
Abelgirth glanced at Maelgwn’s flushed weary face. It seemed clear the king was fooling himself. If he really cared so little for his wife’s feelings, he would not be so distraught.
“Let us forget your troubles for now,” Abelgirth soothed. “You need sleep. I’ll have Cadwyl take you to the guest chambers.”
Maelgwn woke up refreshed. The brisk sea air of Llanfaglan always invigorated him, and by daylight his long night ride seemed like a foolish whim. He wandered to the kitchen where the servants told him that Abelgirth was out hawking. After eating the hearty breakfast they brought him, Maelgwn set out on horseback to find his host.
The track he was directed to led straight down to the coast and out on a promontory. Here there was the constant cry of the gulls and cormorants, and the dull restless thrashing of the sea on the rocks far below. The land itself was barren and rough, with grass and sea pinks struggling for a foothold on the gray rocks. The country was very different from the highlands, even though it was not that far away. Maelgwn knew that if he turned east he would be able to see the misty rose peak of Yr Wyddfa in the distance, rising high above the coast.
Maelgwn rode quickly toward the figure of Abelgirth, who was ambling along with a large hawk perched on his shoulder. The bird and the man both seemed to be watching the rocks below, and with the din of the surf, Maelgwn was almost upon them before Abelgirth turned and smiled at him.
“Sleep well my friend? You look better for the rest.”
“Aye, I feel much better. Thank you for your hospitality,” Maelgwn said, dismounting.
Abelgirth shrugged. “No thanks necessary. I have as much interest as anyone in keeping the king of Gwynedd healthy and sharp-minded. The air and peacefulness here will do you good. I often come here when my mind is tangled about something.”
“This is not the usual country for hawking,” Maelgwn said, motioning to the elegant russet and cream-colored bird. “There seems little prey here to provide you with sport.”
Abelgirth nodded, stroking the bird’s sleek feathers tenderly. “Mostly I take them for company.”
Maelgwn stared at the hawk’s wicked-looking amber eye. He had always liked falconry, although it seemed he had little time for such entertainment. Still, he would not have thought of the birds as companions.
The two men walked together along the rocks, staring out at the sea while Maelgwn’s stallion grazed.
“The sea gets in your blood just as the mountains do,” Maelgwn mused after a few moments of silence. “I can see that it would be hard to leave this place if you grew up here.”
“Aye, it would be hard for me, although Gwenaseth did not seem to find it wrenching. She wants only to be with her beloved Elwyn. I take it all goes well for their wedding?”
Maelgwn nodded. “The women have it in hand.” Abelgirth watched the younger man carefully. He didn’t want to overstep the bounds of his friendship, but he wondered if Maelgwn had softened yet in his attitude toward Aurora.
“So, after a good night’s sleep, are you more disposed to forgive your wife her terrible faults?”
Maelgwn shrugged. “It’s nothing. I see now that I was overreacting. She’s merely a woman; she can do nothing.”
“You were quite distraught when you first came here. Are you sure there isn’t more to it than that?”
“Of course,” Maelgwn answered briskly. “I have held myself close to Aurora for too long. One night with another woman, and I will be cured of my weakness for her.” Maelgwn smiled widely, showing his big, strong teeth. “Speaking of which, is that little dark-haired girl someone special, or would you be willing to share?”
The furrows in Abelgirth’s broad forehead deepened. “She’s just an ambitious little fisherman’s daughter. But really Maelgwn, I don’t think you are taking the right approach with your wife. I, too, tried to run away from my feelings, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“There is a difference,” Maelgwn said rather sharply. “You said you were in love with your wife. Me... I cannot love any woman. What I feel for Aurora is no more than raw lust.”
“We shall see,” Abelgirth said softly, and for a moment his dark eyes looked as shrewd and sharp as the hawk’s. “We shall see.”
Chapter 21
Aurora was sewing quietly in the tower chamber. There was a soft knock, and Gwenaseth entered, breathing hard from her run up the stairs.
“I have good news, Aurora. The king and my father have been sighted in the valley.”
Aurora tried to keep her face expressionless, but her breathing quickened. She could not help it—she had been counting the hours until Maelgwn returned
.
“I can hardly wait,” said Gwenaseth dreamily. “Tomorrow Elwyn and I will be married in the chapel and then handfast at the Lughnasa ceremony.”
Lughnasa—the word intrigued Aurora. For as long as she could remember, the ancient festival had been shrouded in mystery and a sense of the forbidden. Perhaps it was time she found out what it meant.
“Gwenaseth, tell me—what do you do at Lughnasa?”
“We celebrate the coming harvest and the bounty of the earth. The celebration is named for Lugh—god of the sun. Here in Gwynedd we also worship Cernunnos—the god of the hunt. I don’t know the exact meaning of the celebration, but it is very old. Have you never participated in a festival, Aurora?”
Aurora shook her head. “The people who live in the hills around Viroconium still gather to honor the old gods, but my parents were Christians, and they considered such things immoral and blasphemous.”
Gwenaseth looked startled. “My father and I are Christians, but we also observe the seasonal festivals. I don’t understand how that can be wrong.”
“Perhaps it is different here,” Aurora said thoughtfully. “I can remember my sisters whispering about the hilltop festivals. They said that people took off their clothes and danced naked around the fires, and young women were sometimes dragged off and ravished. We had a maid who was found to be pregnant soon after attending a festival.”
“If your maid went with a man, I’m sure it was willingly,” Gwenaseth answered. “It is not uncommon for couples to make love in celebration, but no woman is forced.”
“So, there is lovemaking?” Aurora asked, her eyes wide.
“Of course. Lughnasa is a celebration of life and fertility. There is something special about making love around the sacred fires, and afterwards many women find themselves with child. It is also a time when a woman can couple with a man other than her husband, and no one will consider her unfaithful.”
Aurora stared in disbelief, and Gwenaseth watched her closely. “Would you like to do that—go with another man besides Maelgwn?”
Aurora gave a grim, tense laugh. “It would be interesting to see if another man could want me for myself, instead of my father’s lands and wealth.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure Maelgwn wouldn’t let any other man near me, no matter what the custom.”
“Oh, even Maelgwn would not dare protest,” Gwenaseth said confidently. “Lovemaking during Lughnasa is sacred, and even a king must accept what happens.”
“All the same, it is unlikely. I cannot imagine any man willing to risk Maelgwn’s wrath.”
“Aurora,” Gwenaseth asked carefully. “Are things still so bad between the two of you?”
Aurora looked away, trying to hide the tears that swam in her eyes. She didn’t want anyone, even Gwenaseth, to know how much Maelgwn’s abrupt departure had hurt her.
“Perhaps I should change clothes before our guests arrive,” she answered. “Here, help me with the clasp on my necklace.”
It was not going to be as easy as he thought, Maelgwn mused glumly, staring at the crowd of people celebrating in the great hall. He had returned to Caer Eryri determined to ignore Aurora and prove to her—and himself—how unimportant she was to his life. But things had not gone as he had planned. The first sight of Aurora hit him like a blow. She looked ravishing as she stood at the gate to greet their guests, and when she smiled her enchanting smile at Abelgirth, Maelgwn felt his stomach twist with jealousy. He had wanted to run away again, but he could not. He had been forced to stand beside Aurora and introduce her to all his guests and then sit next to her at the feast. It was torture to be so close to her and remember that he had vowed not to touch her.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she left to join the dancing, but he soon found that this was no better. He could not help watching her as she twirled and swayed to the music, and he was sure that every other man in the room was watching and wanting her as well. The jealousy rose thick and choking in his throat, all the more bitter because Aurora’s smile seemed to be meant for every man but him.
“What is wrong, Maelgwn?” Abelgirth asked, coming to stand beside his host. “You look as if you had been eating something that tasted bad.”
“Did I? It must have been a passing thought that angered me. Anyway, it is gone now.”
“Your wife certainly seems to be enjoying herself,” Abelgirth murmured, gesturing to Aurora. “Frankly, if I had a wife who looked like that, I would think about locking her away and keeping her for myself.”
Maelgwn nearly choked on his wine, and then gave Abelgirth a long, cold stare. He walked away, leaving his friend to gape after him in surprise.
Maelgwn knew he had to get out of the hall, out of the smoky room filled with sweaty, happy people. He slipped out into the cool night and walked toward the gate. The moon had grown since he went to Llanfaglon, and there was plenty of light to show the way. The bored, weary guard looked down in surprise as Maelgwn’s boots crunched on the gravel.
“Who goes... Maelgwn! Is something wrong?”
“Nah, nah. I am just out for a walk this fine night. I am going down to the village. If Balyn or any of my officers come looking for me—tell them.”
The guard looked curious, but he nodded obediently.
Maelgwn continued his leisurely pace down the hillside track. The air was faintly warm and filmy, and Maelgwn inhaled the sweetness of it. Some flower was in bloom, and it reminded him of being a boy and playing outside in the summer night. He sighed. It was so long ago. His childhood had been cut short so soon. If he ever had a son, he would want him to have a chance to be a boy longer, before he took up the weighty problems of being a man.
A cloud passed over the moon, but despite the shadow of darkness, Maelgwn had no trouble finding his way. It had been a long time—nearly three moon cycles—since he had followed this particular path, but the way was familiar, well-worn, comfortable. Maelgwn reached the village and paused where the pathway veered off. He knew what he would find when he came to the end of it: the rough, well-patched hut, the low fire banked for the night, the bed of sheepskins and furs, and the woman—Morganna—dark blond hair, placid brown eyes and a warm body smelling of smoke and earth.
Maelgwn sighed. How long could he go on pretending that it was another woman he needed? He had tried that at Llanfaglon. When Abelgirth sent the dark-haired girl to him, Maelgwn had been tense with expectant desire. But after one look at the girl’s shrewd, pretty face, he had sent her away. She was not Aurora, and there was no hope she would satisfy the aching longing within him.
It was the same with Morganna. He cared for her, truly he did. But it was not love or desire that had first driven him to her bed, but pity. After what he had known with Aurora it was not enough.
He turned away. It seemed too late to return to the fortress. He would have to sleep outdoors, under the stars. It was a perfect night—warm, soft and as gentle as a lover. Maelgwn found a sheltering tree on the hillside and lay down, cradling his head on a pile of dry leaves.
When he woke early in the morning, the mist was still gray upon the hills and the thrushes and plovers were calling softly through the growing light. He stood up, glancing toward Caer Eryri. The faded stones of the fortress beckoned to him. He watched as the high towers rose gleaming above the mists.
He sighed softly. It was no use. He wanted Aurora more than ever. No other woman would ever satisfy him. He wanted that dangerous passion that burned through his flesh through his very bones. He looked up longingly at the high tower. Aurora would be asleep. He longed to go to her, to feel her silken skin against his, to shiver beneath the soft curtain of her hair. But he dared not. He’d been cruel to his wife, greeted her with cold disdain and then ignored her at the feast. He could not expect her to welcome him back to her bed now, not a haughty, spoiled little princess like her. Why, he’d be lucky if she did not try to push him down the stairs!
Maelgwn made his way to the river, still tense with desire and frustration. The s
un was burning away the mist, and the morning chill was leaving him. He followed the worn pathway down to the water. The river was low this time of year, and the current ran swiftly but quietly. Maelgwn shed his grimy clothes—the worn wool tunic, the leather trousers, his loose hide boots with their soles reinforced with bronze studs—and waded into the water up to his hips. The water was cool, nearly cold, and it woke him up quickly.
He took a deep breath and plunged in, feeling the water wash away the sweat and dust from his skin. He wished he had brought some soap so he could wash his hair, but he could do that later when he shaved. He leaned back in the water, enjoying the buoyancy of his own body. Ah, this was way to bathe, not like the Romans with their warm water and tiled bathhouses. No perfumed oil could ever smell as sweet as the scent of mountain flowers warming in the sun, no tepid bath invigorate like these sparkling cool currents dancing over the rocks.
His mind turned to the Lughnasa festival, and Maelgwn felt a vague sense of unease. Tonight the spirit of the gods would be contagious. Many people would shed their clothes to escape the heat of the fires and dance more freely, and couples would go off into the shadows to honor the Old Ones with lovemaking. What if Aurora should go off with another man? Would he be able to endure it, knowing that someone else was touching her, enjoying her smooth, burning flesh?
Maelgwn shook off the image with a shiver. If it did happen, he dared not interfere. The ceremony belonged to the old gods, it honored the Lord and Lady. He must let things happen, feel the power of the night, the fires, the music. He must not let his jealousy interfere with the ancient tradition.
When he was done bathing, Maelgwn left the river and dressed on the bank. Despite his doubts, he felt better than he had in days, as if the quick dip had washed away some of his anger and frustration. It was no use denying that he cared for Aurora. He was almost willing to go to her and make amends. It would be worth it to have her back as his wife. He headed toward Caer Eryri, enjoying the feel of the earth beneath his boots, the sun on his damp back. He was always in awe of the way the light hit the walls of the fortress in the morning, turning the stones to gold. As he neared, the illusion faded, and the walls were gray and crumbling again.
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