“Averil had no choice. Her fate was planned at her birth whatever she might think.” Gorawen smiled again. “And while Rhys FitzHugh is no great lord, he is the lord and master of Everleigh now. And Averil has done her duty and produced a son for him. No, all is as it should be for my daughter, and will be for yours, Argel.”
Ysbail now bustled into the hall, her color high. “What is this? Your proud daughter has forced my child from their chamber! I will not have it!”
“Calm yourself,” Argel advised Ysbail. “It will be for but a short while. Maia will sulk, but you know it will all end well.”
“If matters not to me if she marries that sorcerer, or throws herself out the window,” Ysbail said meanly as she seated herself. “Junia will have the tower chamber to herself at long last. It is past time my child came into her own.” She reached for the hot cottage loaf, and tore off a chunk.
“What a hard heart you have,” Gorawen said, sipping at her cup. “Have you no care for Maia?”
“Maia is the heiress,” Ysbail said. “She has a fine suitor, and her dowry will consist of land as well as livestock. Her suitor is a man of good lineage. Why should I feel sorry for her? My poor Junia, the youngest of our lord’s daughters, will have little to recommend her, I fear. Neither of your daughters has helped her cause at all! Averil is wed to a bastard who would have lived his life as a bailiff if it had not been for his sister’s convenient death,” she sneered, “and as for Maia, she is determined to wed a man of dubious reputation despite his bloodline. This does not bode well for matching my daughter, does it?” Buttering her bread with her thumb, she shoved it into her mouth.
“You may rest assured that our lord Merin will do every bit as well by Junia as he has done with Averil and Maia,” Argel said stiffly.
“Humph!” Ysbail replied. “That hardly reassures me given their circumstances.” She reached for a hard-boiled egg from a wooden bowl on the table and began to peel it.
“Averil’s dowry was a fine one,” Gorawen said. “Both cattle and sheep, and fifteen silver pennies.”
“Silver pennies? There was silver in her portion?” Ysbail had not known this.
“Merin puts aside a silver penny on each girl’s natal day,” Gorawen murmured. “You didn’t know? Junia now has eleven silver pennies in her dower portion. If she weds at fifteen as did Averil, there will be fifteen silver pennies along with her share of livestock.” She smiled sweetly at Ysbail.
“But Maia will have more silver, I am certain,” Ysbail said, not satisfied.
“Maia will have fifteen silver pennies, too,” Argel responded. “Merin made no distinction there between his daughters. Maia, of course, will have land, which neither Averil or Junia could expect.”
“Well,” said Ysbail, somewhat mollified, “as long as Junia gets as much livestock as her elder sister, I suppose I have no cause for complaint. But I will not have her stinted because she is the youngest!”
“Since we have several years before Junia can be matched there would seem to be no argument,” Argel remarked.
“I suppose not,” Ysbail agreed grudgingly. Then dipping the peeled egg in the salt dish she popped it whole into her mouth, and ate it.
“Good morning, my women.” The Dragon Lord entered the hall and joined them at the high board. He was followed by their guest. “Where is Maia?”
“She has put Junia from their chamber!” Ysbail said quickly before Argel might answer her husband. “And she has bolted the door behind her.”
“What is this?” The master of the house looked irritated. “Is she not over this pettish behavior?” He reached for his goblet, which Argel quickly filled from the wine pitcher on the table. “You must go to your daughter, wife, and tell the lass that I wish to see her immediately.”
“Do not send Argel on an impossible errand, my lord,” Gorawen said quietly. “Maia will not obey her mother in this matter. She will obey none of us until she has her way. When you allow her to marry Emrys Llyn she will unbar her door, but not, I think until then.”
“Then I must take an ax to the door myself,” the Dragon Lord answered.
“My lord!” Argel cried. “Maia will throw herself from the tower if you do. She has said it.”
“Nonsense!” he replied. “Maia is a sensible girl. She will do no such thing.”
“Our daughter is in love, my lord, and she is much like you. She rarely threatens, but when she does you may be certain that she will follow through with her threat. If you do not think she will, then you know her not,” Argel declared.
“Damn the wench!” the Dragon Lord said.
“Break your fast, my lord,” Gorawen coaxed him, and she drizzled honey into his oat stirabout, and then added a generous dollop of thick golden cream. As he took up his spoon she buttered a piece of the cottage loaf lavishly, and topped it with a slice of tasty yellow cheese, setting it by his hand. Then she peeled one of the hard-boiled eggs, and lay it next to the bread, offering him the salt dish when he reached for the egg.
The Dragon Lord ate in silence now as did Emrys Llyn who had been served as nicely by his hostess. Ysbail, silent for a change, saw that the two men’s wine cups were never empty. When they had finally satisfied themselves the Dragon Lord spoke.
“I suppose the first thing is to go with you, Emrys Llyn, to see whether this castle Maia speaks of is real, or but a fantasy.”
“It is very real, my lord, I swear it. And I agree that we should leave this morning. It is a two-day journey, and if Maia really does refuse to eat until you give your consent it will be four to five days before we may return,” the Lord of the Lake said.
“Foolish girl! She needs a good beating,” Merin Pendragon grumbled.
“Fetch the horses,” he called out to no one in particular, but his command would be obeyed, he knew. He put an arm about his wife, and kissed her gently. Then he gave each of his two concubines a kiss in farewell. “I am off to the north and the west, somewhere between the mountains before the sea,” he told them. “At least that is the direction that Emrys Llyn has revealed to me.”
“We will return in five days’ time, my lady,” the Lord of the Lake told Argel, and he kissed her hand. He turned to Gorawen. “Watch over Maia, my sister,” he told her, and then turning, he followed his host from the hall.
“Why did he call you his sister?” Ysbail immediately wanted to know.
“Because we both practice magic, and are to a certain degree of magic,” Gorawen answered the woman. “Magical folk have a special bond.”
“What will we do about Maia?” Argel wondered.
“Wait until the noon hour when we will eat our main meal. By then she will be very hungry, for Maia is not used to missing her food. I think if she knows her father has gone with her lover to inspect her future home she can be coaxed into coming out and joining us until they return,” Gorawen said.
“And she can take up her defensive position when her father returns in order to save her dignity.” Argel chuckled.
“You both indulge the lass too much,” Ysbail said. “But at least Junia can return to her rightful place if you can convince Maia to stop being so silly.”
And as Gorawen had predicted Maia was cajoled from her tower chamber by her mother. She came to table at the noon hour, and ate two helpings of lamb stew and almost demolished a cottage loaf by herself. Then she offered to help her sister bring her possessions back to their chamber.
“I thought you no longer loved me because you now love Emrys Llyn,” Junia said tearily, hugging her elder sister.
“What a silly goose you are, Junia! You do not stop loving everyone else because you love a man,” Maia said.
“How am I to know such things?” Junia demanded in a tone so like her mother’s that they all laughed, even Ysbail.
“How long did you say it would take father to reach Emrys’s castle?” Maia asked.
“The Lord of the Lake said it was a two-day ride,” Argel told her daughter.
“I wi
sh I were with them,” Maia said softly.
“It is a long ride,” Gorawen noted, wondering how Merin was getting on, for the Dragon Lord did not travel far from his lands as a rule.
And Merin Pendragon was wondering as he rode why his daughters could not have wed men who lived closer to his home. Averil was a day and a half’s journey, and now possibly Maia would be two days’ riding. Still, the land was beautiful, and the weather was not too bad. With the autumn, there was a chill in the air, and he was very relieved when they camped the night in a small dry cave, and could have a fire, for the night was cold. At least they ate well, for his cook had wrapped a roasted chicken in a cloth, along with some oat cakes, cheese, apples, and the remainder of the morning’s hard-boiled eggs. Each man carried a flask filled with wine. They ate half the chicken, saving the other half for the next day, and roasted apples in the fire before sleeping.
In the morning they ate the remainder of their food, but for two oat cakes and two apples. The horses were well rested, and watered. They had spent their night in the shelter of the cave away from any marauding animals, and were fed a measure of oats carried by their masters. They were ready for the day’s journey that lay ahead of them.
“We should reach my castle by sunset,” Emrys Llyn told his companion.
“Does it have a name?” demanded the Dragon Lord.
“Ile du Lac,” the Lord of the Lake answered. “Lancelot named it.”
Merin Pendragon grunted in acknowledgement.
When the sun had reached its zenith at midday they stopped and ate their scant rations while resting the horses. The countryside was very wild and very desolate and grew more so as the afternoon progressed. They had passed no cottages since midday yesterday.
“Who claims this land?” the Dragon Lord asked.
Emrys Llyn shrugged. “The great families argue back and forth over it, but no one ever comes here, my lord. I have no idea who now owns, or believes he owns, this land. It is good for little but perhaps hunting.”
“How near are we to Ile du Lac?” Merin asked.
“Soon,” came the answer. “Another hill or two. See, the sun is already preparing to make its descent.”
“Good!” Merin Pendragon said. “I am loath to admit it, but I am not as young as I once was. I am ready for a hot meal and a comfortable bed.”
“You shall have them soon, my lord,” Emrys Llyn promised.
Another hour passed, and as the sun slipped towards the horizon they made their descent into a small valley taken up entirely by a beautiful deep blue lake. The hills were forested about them. The horses slowly picked their way downward until they had reached the shoreline. They stopped, and Emrys Llyn put a horn that had been hanging from his waist to his lips, and blew. The sound echoed in the clear air, and almost at once a flat-bottomed ferry came towards them from the shore of the island that sat in the midst of the waters. There was no ferryman, however.
The Lord of the Lake saw his companion’s astonishment. He smiled, and then said, “I hope you will forgive me a bit of magic, Merin Pendragon. I cannot resist showing off now and again.”
“Is it safe to travel in such a conveyance?” the Dragon Lord asked.
“Quite safe for us, and for the horses,” he was assured as the small vessel neatly bumped the sandy beach before them.
“This is a most convenient magic you possess,” the Dragon Lord remarked dryly.
Emrys Llyn laughed as he gently urged his horse aboard the ferry. “Come,” he said. “The sun is near to setting, and I would show you my hospitality. Maia will be most happy here, my lord.”
“Well, I will agree that the setting is a beautiful one,” Merin Pendragon answered. “And you will swear to me that this is all real, and not some illusion you have wrought?”
“It is as real as your own Dragon’s Lair. I swear it on the Blessed Mother and her son Jesu, Merin Pendragon. I have not the magic of the Lady of the Lake, but what magic I do possess, I use only for the good.”
The Dragon Lord urged his horse onto the little ferry next to Emrys Llyn and his mount. At once the ferry began to move, and it skimmed swiftly across to the island where the castle stood, twinkling lights glittering from its narrow windows.
When they had reached the far shore there were servants awaiting them to lead them down a path from the lake’s edge through a field of flowers to the castle itself. Within the courtyard of the edifice they dismounted, and their horses were taken away.
“Welcome home, my lord!” a smiling majordomo said as he hurried forward. “We did not expect you so soon.”
“This is Merin Pendragon, the Dragon Lord himself, Sion,” Emrys Llyn said.
The majordomo bowed low. “I welcome the descendant of the great Arthur, my lord,” he said.
“You have served your master long?” Merin asked, curious.
“My family has always served in the house of the Lord of the Lake, my lord,” Sion answered.
“Are the servants here real, or fairy?” Merin persisted.
Sion smiled again. “Some are real, as you put it. Some are fairy. And some of the servants are both, my lord. Is that not the way in all the world? Now, if you will follow me, my lords, the supper will be ready to be served.” Turning, he led them from the entrance of the castle and into a great hall.
Merin Pendragon gaped noticeably about the chamber. It was large. There were great beams that were carved, painted and gilded, holding up the roof. High arched windows lined two sides of the room. On a sunny day it would be bright and cheerful. There were three enormous stone fireplaces, each flanked on either side with tall carved stone knights in full armor who held their swords before them, pointed down. Enormous tapestries hung on either side of the fireplace behind the high board. They depicted King Arthur and his court going about their various pursuits. The high board itself was made of hard oak, and the table was blackened with its many years, but well polished.
Merin Pendragon sat himself at his host’s right hand without being asked to do so. “Your hall is magnificent,” he said quietly.
“There was a day when it would have been filled with knights, and visitors from all lands come to pay homage to the Lady of the Lake, and her mate, Lancelot. Those times are long gone,” Emrys Llyn said. “Still, the hall remains a reminder of those times.” There was a sadness in his voice when he spoke.
“I am weary from our journey,” Merin Pendragon said. “I would eat, and find a bed, but tomorrow will you show me about this great castle of yours?”
“Gladly!” Emrys Llyn said. “You will see that Maia will be content here.”
“Perhaps, but what of companions for her? Your home is beautiful, but lonely, Emrys Llyn,” the Dragon Lord noted. “My daughter has grown up in a household of women, and is used to their company. What will happen when you get her with child? Who will be here to nurture and aid her? To calm her natural fears?”
“Maia is not afraid of my magic, my lord. When she desires companions they will be supplied for her. The Fair Folk are good souls, and she will easily find friends among them. She will have ladies aplenty, I promise you.”
The Dragon Lord nodded. It would take some getting used to, this magical world into which his daughter would come. He thought of the majordomo’s remark that some here were fairy, and some were not, and some were both. How did one tell? But then he turned his attentions to the fine meal being served.
The salmon was served with dill. There were oysters and fat prawns. And where had they come from so far from the sea? He decided he didn’t care. There was roasted venison and wild forest boar. Capon in a sauce of dried berries; a duck in a sauce made from plums. The rabbit pie had a flaky golden crust. Merin Pendragon ate until he could eat no more, or so he believed. And then a bowl of roasted apples covered in heavy golden cream was brought to table, along with a platter of pears that had been sliced in half lengthwise, and sat in a sauce of rich wine and spices. Delicate little sugar wafers were set before him, and his wine cup was
never allowed to be empty. Unable to help himself, he ate both apples and pears. When he belched afterwards it was a mixture of wine and cinnamon, and he smiled, well satisfied.
“I apologize for the simplicity of the meal,” his host said, “but as Sion said, we were not expected.”
The Dragon Lord laughed aloud. “Your jest is noted, Emrys Llyn. The meal was the finest I have ever eaten. Your cook is obviously fairy.”
“Nay, he is but real folk, but he does have a talent for his work,” the Lord of the Lake said.
Merin Pendragon stood up. “Now, I should like to find my bed,” he said.
The majordomo was immediately at his side. “Allow me to show you, my lord,” he said, bowing.
“Lead on, my good Sion,” was the jovial reply, and the Dragon Lord followed Sion from the great hall of Ile du Lac. If his bed was as good as his meal, he would have no complaint. He was already beginning to think more kindly of Emrys Llyn. Everything he had seen so far would indicate that his daughter would be happy and comfortable. If only he might solve the mystery of the unfortunate deaths of the Lord of the Lake’s first two wives.
The chamber to which he was shown was spacious. The windows overlooked the lake. The fireplace was ablaze, and there was water for washing. There was wine on a sideboard table.
“Is there anything I can get you, my lord?” Sion asked him.
The Dragon Lord saw his saddle pack set neatly on a stool. “No,” he replied. “Thank you, Sion.”
“Then I wish you a good night, my lord,” the majordomo said, bowing himself from the chamber and closing the door behind him.
Merin Pendragon sat down on the edge of the curtained bed, and slowly pulled off his boots. He set them by the stool, and drawing off his cotte he lay it atop his pack. He disrobed no further, for this was a strange house, and while he felt he was safe from harm, one never knew. Climbing into the great bed he left the bed curtains open, and lay back. From what he had seen so far it was all perfect. But was it too perfect? he considered. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I will be able to better judge. I am weary with our traveling. My head will be clearer in the morning. Tomorrow I shall make my decision. He slept peacefully, and without dreams.
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