“Aye, perhaps that is why she doesn’t wake.”
Rhys nodded. “Moving her may make things worse, but we have no choice.... How are you coming with that fire, Elwyn?”
“I’ve got it,” the younger man answered. “At least it has stopped raining, but I need some wood, anything you can find that is partially dry.”
“Maelgwn,” Rhys’s voice was patient, gentle, as if he were speaking to a child. “I need you to carry Aurora over by the fire. Hold her on your lap, and move your hands over her under the cloak—that’s right. Try to get her skin warm.”
Balyn returned from gathering wood and pulled Elwyn aside. “What does Rhys say? Will she live?”
Elwyn shook his head miserably “He does not know... he is afraid her head is injured.”
Balyn sighed. “I wonder what happened. Did the horse trip, or did she fall off in exhaustion?”
“It is my fault,” Elwyn said in a trembling voice. “I helped her run away. I let this happen to her.”
“You cannot blame yourself. You were trying to help her.”
“Who can I blame then... Maelgwn?” Elwyn asked bitterly. “How could he let things go this far? How could he drive her to such desperation?”
“Hush! I’ll not have you talk like that. If she does not live... Well, I won’t even mention it. It is clear that Maelgwn cares now. It is up to us to make sure he has a chance to make it up to her.”
“How is the litter coming?” Rhys asked.
“It is almost finished. Do you think she is ready to be moved?”
“Soon. She’s getting warm, and I see a little color in her face.” The two men stared at the king, holding his wife tenderly in his arms by the fire.
“And the king?” Balyn asked in a hushed voice.
Rhys shook his head. “Jupiter, I’ve never seen him go to pieces like this. If she doesn’t live...” his voice trailed off.
“We can’t think about that,” Balyn said briskly. “She is young and strong. A fall from a horse and a night in the cold shouldn’t be too much for her. After all she did climb down that tower by herself.” The big man shuddered. “I don’t know if I could have done that!”
“Aye, she is young. And the cold may have kept her head injury from being worse. She was near dead when we found her though. We are very lucky Maelgwn thought of having Gareth whistle for Paithu.” “We are lucky, aye. So far we are lucky indeed.”
Chapter 27
Gwenaseth watched the king with concern. Maelgwn had not rested in the long hours since Aurora had been brought to the tower room. He sat by the bed, holding his wife’s hand and staring at her pale, still face. His handsome profile was ravaged by fatigue and worry, and she decided it was time to take Torawc’s advice and give him some drugged wine so he would sleep. She went to the table, poured a cup of wine and surreptitiously dumped a small pinch of white powder into the dark liquid. She hastily swirled it around with her finger, watching Maelgwn carefully. His eyes never left Aurora’s face.
“My lord, you should drink something,” she said softly, walking toward the king with the cup.
Maelgwn shook his head, but said nothing. All his concentration was focused on Aurora.
Gwenaseth placed the cup in his free hand. “Drink, Maelgwn. Torawc said you must have some nourishment... he insisted.”
Maelgwn sighed and grasped the cup idly. Then he drank it down rapidly, without looking at it.
Gwenaseth trembled as she took the cup back from him. Maelgwn looked worse than Aurora. Her face wore a look of eerie peace, while Maelgwn looked like a man who had been tortured for hours.
Gwenaseth went back to her stool by the fire to wait for the drug to take effect. She was glad she had been able to go back to sleep after the search party went out. She was tired, but much more rested than everyone else. It had been shocking to wake up and find Aurora so badly hurt, and she could not help feeling guilty. If only they had known that Maelgwn did not plan to hurt her, if only they had waited until morning.
Silently, Gwenaseth chastised herself for her regretful thoughts. It was just as she had told Elwyn and Maelgwn when she first saw their devastated faces—you could not change the past, so there was no sense brooding over it. The important thing was the future, and making sure that Aurora got well. Her words had gotten through to Elwyn, and he went to bed to sleep off his exhaustion. But Maelgwn—Gwenaseth could see that he was beside himself with worry, punishing himself with remorse. He greatly needed the oblivion of sleep to soothe his tormented mind.
Gwenaseth glanced again at the king. His eyelids were finally drooping. Perhaps she should call someone. If he collapsed in the chair, there was no way she could get him into the bed by herself.
Gwenaseth got up again and went to the door. Maelgwn took no notice of her leaving—he did not even look up. She hurried down the stairs and met Balyn outside the tower door.
“How does she?” he asked worriedly.
Gwenaseth shook her head. “She still has not roused, but she seems to sleep peacefully. It is Maelgwn I am worried about. I have given him some drugged wine so that he will rest. Will you help me make a bed for him on the floor?”
Balyn nodded distractedly. “Do you think it is a bad sign that Aurora hasn’t woken?”
Gwenaseth sighed. “I know much less than Torawc, but it seems to me that if she breathes, there is hope. Come, help me find something to make a bed for Maelgwn.”
Balyn and Gwenaseth went to the office in the barracks, gathered up some bedding and dragged the sheepskins and blankets up the tower stairs. They found Maelgwn slumped over in the chair. After laying the skins on the floor, they slid him off the chair and onto the makeshift bed.
When Maelgwn was taken care of, Balyn motioned to Gwenaseth to follow him back to the stairway.
“There is something else you should know about,” Balyn said in a troubled voice. “Soon after we got Aurora back to Caer Eryri, a messenger arrived from Cunedda. It seems he is having trouble with the Picts again and needs Maelgwn to bring his army to help him.”
Gwenaseth looked up at the big man in surprise.
“Does Maelgwn know about this?”
“Aye,” Balyn nodded gravely. “But he told the man he could not leave until Aurora was safe.”
“Do you think the request from Cunedda is genuine, or is it a trap?”
“A trap?”
“I thought you knew,” Gwenaseth said impatiently. “One of the things Maelgwn and Aurora quarreled about before he... before he locked her up, was that Aurora believed that Cunedda had a spy in the village and that he was plotting with someone within Caer Eryri to betray Maelgwn into a trap.”
“Someone within Caer Eryri? You mean Esylt, don’t you?” Balyn asked with narrowed eyes.
Gwenaseth nodded. “Clearly Maelgwn did not believe Aurora, but since Maelgwn was wrong about other things, perhaps it is something to consider.”
“I have considered it,” Balyn said slowly. “But it is not my decision to make. We need Maelgwn back to his normal self, and we need it to happen soon!”
“I have been praying to the Christian God... and to the other gods as well,” Gwenaseth said sorrowfully. “For now that is all we can do.”
Balyn nodded glumly and left her; Gwenaseth went in and took up her watch again.
The room was deathly quiet. Gwenaseth got up and poked at the fire. Then she walked to the window and looked out. It was a gray, miserable day, and it was still raining. The air coming in through the windows was damp and cold, and Gwenaseth shivered. The rains of autumn had begun; summer would be over soon.
Gwenaseth went back and sat down by the fire again. She pushed the stool back against the wall, so she could lean back. It was so warm and cozy there.
She woke with a start, nearly falling off the stool. For a moment she couldn’t remember where she was. There was the sound of moaning, an awful sound, and Gwenaseth’s heart leaped into her throat. She stumbled toward the bed. The room was dark, and she co
uld just barely make out the bed and Aurora’s form upon it. The queen was thrashing about as if in pain. As she struggled frantically in her sleep, she called out in a faint, anguished voice.
“Help me! Help me, Marcus!”
Gwenaseth stroked her fevered brow and whispered soothing words, but they did not seem to reach Aurora. She continued to cry out, her muffled voice growing stronger. Gwenaseth glanced anxiously to where the king lay sleeping. She did not want him to wake up, she did not want him to hear the name that Aurora kept calling, repeating it over and over in a voice full of grief and pain.
It was too late. Gwenaseth saw the dark form of the king rise on the other side of the bed. He leaned over to grasp Aurora’s other hand, to whisper words of tenderness to her.
“Marcus! Marcus!” Aurora mumbled in her devastated voice, still tossing uneasily. “Help me!”
Gwenaseth heard Maelgwn’s sigh. He did not pull his hand away, but he stopped speaking to Aurora.
Gradually, Aurora’s voice grew fainter and calmer, and her restlessness eased. It seemed she had slipped back into the peace of her dreams again.
Sweat was dripping down Gwenaseth’s face. Even though there had been no danger near, Aurora’s calls had been so heartbreakingly desperate, she felt as if she, too, had been struggling with a deadly enemy. She moved to light the lamp so she could check on Aurora more carefully. She had only taken two steps when Maelgwn’s low, vibrant voice came to her from across the room. “Who is he?”
The pain was etched deeply in those few words, and Gwenaseth felt her heart sink. Maelgwn had heard clearly enough—he knew that Aurora was calling for another man. Gwenaseth considered what to tell him. Things left unsaid had made things so hard between Aurora and Maelgwn. If Aurora lived, she and Maelgwn would have to begin to be honest with each other if there was to be any hope for their marriage at all. Perhaps it was time that Maelgwn knew the truth.
“I’m not sure,” she began slowly. “I believe that Marcus was someone she was in love with at Viroconium.”
From across the room, Gwenaseth could hear Maelgwn release his breath in a painful, ragged sigh.
“But you must not hold it against her,” Gwenaseth continued anxiously. “She said he was someone she could never marry, and that they... that they were little more than childhood friends.”
“Yet she calls for him, instead of me... now... when her spirit is so near death.”
“You must remember,” Gwenaseth spoke softly, her voice little more than a whisper in the darkness. “When she left here last night, she was very afraid of you.”
“How can I forget?”
The raw suffering in his voice was unbearable to listen to. Gwenaseth hurried to comfort Maelgwn.
“Hush,” she said gently, touching Maelgwn’s arm with her hand. “She will wake soon, and then you can tell her the things you wish to say.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure that she will not just die in her sleep... never knowing I love her?”
Gwenaseth forced her voice to be calm. “Of course. That she struggles and cries out means she is getting better, does it not? Next time... perhaps next time she will wake, and you can talk to her.”
Gwenaseth was not sure if Maelgwn accepted her words. She went again to light the lamp, sure that neither of them would be able to sleep.
Ah, the pain, the searing pain! Aurora struggled to escape—down, down into the warm comforting darkness. The light would not leave her alone. It followed her... like the pain. She awoke with a moan of agony.
The room was light—a gray misty light that suffused the air. It was cold as well. Aurora shivered under the blankets. She was naked and confused. Why was she in the tower room. Had she only dreamed of escaping?
Aurora struggled to lift her head—fighting the waves of nausea and dizziness that seemed to overwhelm her. She could see Gwenaseth dozing in a chair next to the nearly dying fire. She tried to call out, but her throat was so dry. Her voice sounded like the faint rustle of dry leaves.
Aurora heard a sound on her other side, and turned her head carefully, wincing at the fiery pain the movement caused. Maelgwn’s face came vaguely into view. Aurora did not feel frightened—the pain in her head was too distracting, and Maelgwn looked so tired, so concerned. She lifted her hand, as if to reach out and touch him, then let it fall again. It was too hard; he was too far away.
“Aurora,” he whispered. “Aurora, my love.” Aurora tried to nod, but the small movement seemed impossible. She could only stare at the exhausted, dirt-streaked face of her husband as he watched her with a look of exquisite tenderness. He reached out to touch her face, and Aurora’s vision faded as his fingers stroked her cheek. Her head hurt so badly! She closed her eyes, seeking the oblivion of sleep once again.
“She is out of danger then?” Balyn asked Maelgwn anxiously.
“Aye, Torawc says so, anyway. It is the medicine he gives her to block the pain which makes her sleep so much.”
“Have you... talked to her.”
Maelgwn looked uneasy “I have tried, but she seems so weak and confused. I don’t want to tire her.”
“Or perhaps it is too hard to tell her how you feel?”
“What are you saying?” Maelgwn asked sharply.
“You know, there was a time, Maelgwn, when you would have given your whole kingdom just to tell your wife that you loved her. But now that she is mending, you make excuses for not talking to her.”
“That is not true. I did tell her that I meant her no harm, that I had no intention of killing her. I have also made it clear that I won’t be sending her back to Viroconium. The incident with the poison—that is to be completely forgotten.”
“But, the other—your love for her—have you been honest about that?”
“What can I say?” Maelgwn asked defensively. “It’s true, I love her, but that does not solve the problems between us.”
Balyn shook his head. “I don’t understand. I thought at last—if Aurora lived—things would be right with your marriage.”
Maelgwn was silent, and Balyn stared perplexed at his king’s moody face.
“Have you decided if we will go to Cunedda’s aid?”
“Of course, as his ally I am sworn to assist him. It is just a matter of when. I... I do not look forward to telling Aurora that I am going off to war right now.”
“How long can you delay? It has been at least a week since the messenger arrived.”
“We will have to leave soon. I have already sent the word to Abelgirth and some of the other chieftains. No one is anxious to leave so close to harvest.”
“Have you considered that this summons from Cunedda might be... ah... something other than an honest request for help?”
Maelgwn frowned. “Not you, too. Gwenaseth has already reminded me of Aurora’s concerns. How can I know? Aurora did not see this Brigante man herself—all we have to go on is the word of a crazy woman, and now she is dead.”
“I have wondered about that—Justina was considered peculiar by the villagers, but certainly harmless. Why would anyone murder her?”
“Who says it was murder? Perhaps her hut caught fire by accident. It was full of dried herbs. All it would have taken is one errant spark.”
Balyn opened his mouth to speak again, and then closed it. Maelgwn’s face had that look again—he did not want to hear any more troubling suggestions.
Maelgwn took the stairs to the tower room slowly, as though his boots were full of stones. He did not look forward to this talk with Aurora, but he had put it off as long as possible. His army was grouped to march, and if he delayed any longer, Cunedda would begin to suspect him of disloyalty.
Gwenaseth opened the door. She had spent nearly all her days in the tower since Aurora had been brought in injured. She had shown herself to be a loyal and devoted friend to Aurora. He had to remember to thank her.
Aurora was sitting up in bed. She had regained some of her color, but she still looked very thin. He could see the bones in her d
elicate neck clearly through the pale skin. But the pain and illness had not marred her beauty. As always, Maelgwn felt a pang of desire just looking at his wife.
She smiled uneasily at him. “Good day, Maelgwn.”
“Good day, my lady.”
Maelgwn sat down on the bed. He reached out for Aurora’s hand and twined his fingers around hers. It was hard to be satisfied with so little of her, but he dared not even kiss her for fear he would hurt her.
“It seems you have been busy,” Aurora said after a moment. “I hear all kinds of commotion out in the courtyard—horses and people coming and going.”
“That is what I have come to talk to you about,” Maelgwn said gently, looking into Aurora’s face. “We are going to war.”
“Against whom?”
“The Picts. Cunedda has asked for our help.”
Aurora said nothing, but nodded slowly. The troubled look on her face was clear.
“I don’t want to leave you now—you know that.” Maelgwn’s eyes pleaded for understanding.
“When are you leaving?” Aurora asked.
“In the morning.”
Aurora gave a rapid sigh. Maelgwn moved his fingers along Aurora’s arm, stroking the soft skin. At her shoulder he stopped—he dared go no further.
Aurora felt his uneasy, reluctant touch and gave another gasping sigh. Then she turned her face away, as though she could hide the fat tears that welled into her eyes and then coursed down her cheeks.
Maelgwn moaned. “Aurora, what is it?”
“You are leaving... and you don’t even want me.” Aurora choked out the words in a thin, devastated voice.
Maelgwn leaned over on the bed and began to kiss her passionately. “Oh, Aurora, I did not know if I could. I was afraid I would hurt you.”
Aurora shook her head mutely and began to return his kisses.
Maelgwn savored the sweet nectar of his wife’s mouth, and then lingered his lips over the fragile bones in her face. Perhaps it was better this way—he could prove to her that she did not have to fear him, that he would not hurt her. She was so frail. His fingers trembled over the sharp ridges of her ribs as he pulled down her gown. But her breasts seemed unchanged—they were firm and liquid in his hands, the nipples fat and swollen—and she responded with familiar eagerness as he began to suck them. He could feel Aurora’s fingers twining in his hair as he played with her breasts. She was holding him close to her with a fierce possessiveness that set him on fire. Oh, to know that she wanted him!
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