Rise of the Pendragon (Islands in the Mist Book 3)

by J. M. Hofer

  Amlawth laid it back down on the linen with reverence. “Very fine work.” It was clear he meant to have it. “I’ll give you ten.”

  “Thirteen,” Rufus countered.

  “Thirteen is unlucky,” Amlawth responded shrewdly. “Twelve.”

  Rufus smiled and ran his finger fondly along the blade as he considered the sum. “Fourteen, and I’ll throw in some of that rose silk your daughter’s so fond of.”

  Amlawth waited a customary moment, and then offered his hand. “Done.”

  Rufus took his hand and smiled. “You have yourself a fine sword, Amlawth Wledig, and you’ll see when you swing it what a good bargain we’ve struck—that, I can promise you.”

  Amlawth smiled widely, no longer needing to hide his rapture with his new acquisition, and held it high and proud.

  “It’s beautiful, Father,” the girl said to him, the bolt of silk in her hands, “and thank you for the silk, it’s splendid—I’ll have a dress made from it before you return from the peace council.”

  Arhianna’s stomach dropped at the girl’s words—peace council? “Dear sir,” she said, coming forward and smiling as sweetly as she could. “Might I see your sword before you depart?”

  “Yes, of course.” Amlawth presented it to her.

  She smiled and pointed to Gareth’s symbol, pretending to notice them for the first time. “See these markings, here?”

  “Yes.”

  “I am proud to say your sword was forged by my brother, Gareth of the Oaks, from Mynyth Aur in Gwyneth. We are a small clan.”

  “Gods be good!” exclaimed Rufus, coming out from behind his wide bartering table. “Lady Arhianna? Is that you?”

  She smiled. “It is.”

  Rufus grinned. “Well, look at you! You were just a wee girl the last time I saw you! What brings you so far south?”

  “I have come to ask a favor of you, Master Rufus, but first, I would like to tell this gentleman about this sword he has purchased. I agree, it was a very fine deal struck.”

  “Anything for you, my dear. You have but to name it.”

  “Thank you.” She turned to Amlawth. “Might we go outside? I can better show you the inlay work on the hilt.”

  Amlawth agreed and walked outside with her. To her disappointment, his daughter followed them. She had hoped to speak with him privately. “My lord, I apologize for my intrusion, but I could not help but overhear you say you would soon be attending a peace council? Would that happen to be the peace council that is to be held in Ambrius, hosted by the Saxon warlord, Hengist?”

  The man’s smile faded and his bright eyes darkened with suspicion. “Yes. Speak plainly.”

  She lowered her voice. “That will be no peace council. Hengist and his men mean to kill every Brython who attends. It’s a trap. I beg you, do not go, my lord—for your daughter’s sake.”

  “Where have you heard such things?” Amlawth demanded.

  Arhianna shook her head. “I cannot tell you how I know, or even that I’m certain it will happen as I have overheard, but if you must go, I would advise you to hide a blade on your person, and advise those who travel with you to do the same, as assurance that you will survive any treachery that Hengist might have planned.”

  “And you are who, my lady?” Amlawth asked her, his eyes narrowing.

  “Arhianna, daughter of Bran of the Oaks. I’m on my way home to my family. I was captured in a Saxon raid some moons ago, and have been living among them in Thanet. I managed to escape. I’m here because Master Rufus trades with my father, as you have seen, and I need a place to stay for the night.”

  Amlawth looked at her, and then at his daughter, who had not blinked since Arhianna had spoken. “And then what, dear girl?” Amlawth asked. “Continue home, on these roads, now full of men traveling to Ambrius? I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to continue your journey under such circumstances.”

  Arhianna knew she needed no protection, for she could always defend herself by fire if needed, but she could not reveal that to Amlawth. She had already perhaps revealed too much.

  He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “No, no. That won’t do. You must go with my daughter to Dumnonia until it’s safe to travel the roads again. When they are, I’ll see to it you are safely escorted home. I would very much like to meet your father and brother, and do business directly with them—war is ever nigh and good steel is in high demand.”

  Perhaps her meeting with Amlawth was providential. The roads were indeed dangerous, and her Firebrand could not defend her against a surprise attack or an arrow. She also did not have much in the way of supplies, coin or weapons. In truth, she had left Jørren in a torrent of emotion, with no clear thought about how she would manage the journey. She had never had a cool head on her shoulders. It was Gareth who had always stopped her from doing foolish things in the past.

  “I insist,” Amlawth said, interrupting her evaluations. “I have four daughters, and many rooms. You will be most welcome. I will send a messenger to your father upon my return.”

  It was an offer too good to refuse. “Yes, then, thank you,” she consented.

  “It’s settled then.” Amlawth gave her a nod of satisfaction. “I hope your horse is rested. I must make haste if I’m to warn the others about this possible treachery. You will continue on to Dumnonia, as planned, with my daughter and a few of my men—“ He motioned to his beautiful daughter. “This is Lady Igerna.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Arhianna.” Igerna’s voice was low and woody, like a reed pipe. Every inch of her skin that could be seen was as perfect as fresh cream, not a freckle or blemish anywhere. She reminded Arhianna of a swan with her long graceful neck and fingers, and her shining, nearly white hair. Though her mother always insisted red hair was a blessing, Arhianna coveted flaxen tresses. As a young girl, she often wished she had inherited her father’s blonde mane instead of her mother’s rebellious curls.

  Amlawth directed his men to see she and Igerna were both well-settled onto their horses.

  “I prefer to ride,” Igerna confided. “I can’t stand lumbering along in a wooden cart like a sow.”

  Arhianna giggled. “So do I.” She smiled at Igerna’s candidness.

  Amwlath handed a leather pouch of coin to an older man who was dressed more finely than the others. “See to it these ladies and their horses rest often and want for nothing.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man pledged. “I’ll guard them both with my life.”

  Amlawth bid them farewell, and Arhianna prayed he would reach Ambrius in time to deliver his warning.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Dumnonia

  “See? I told you it was beautiful here,” Igerna taunted.

  Indeed, it was. The hills of the surrounding countryside were tangled in heather and gorse rolling down toward the sea. Wise-looking heaps of granite crowned their tops, tolerating the ceaseless violations of the wind with dignity.

  “That’s home.” Igerna pointed out a castle in the landscape below, its edges hazy from the sea air. “Let’s go. I’m anxious to get off this horse and into a bath.”

  Arhianna could not agree more. It had been a long ride, and she had not slept well since leaving Kent. They reached the castle within the hour. A well-dressed woman came out to welcome them in the courtyard, followed closely by four younger women and a retinue of servants.

  “Mother.” Igerna smiled and dismounted. “This is Lady Arhianna. We met in Calleva. She was on her way north, but Father says the roads are too dangerous and so she must stay with us awhile.”

  Igerna’s mother regarded her daughter’s companion with raised eyebrows but did not question her husband’s decision. “Greetings, Lady Arhianna. I’m Lady Gwen. Welcome to Dumnonia. These are Igerna’s sisters. Her brothers are hunting at the moment, but you will meet them tonight.”

  Arhianna dismounted and went to present herself to her hostess. “Thank you, my lady. I’m most grateful to you and your lord for your generous hospitality.
”

  Lady Gwen gave her a nod and turned to one of the nearby servants. “Take Lady Arhianna’s things to the small guest chamber with the view of the sea.”

  “Right away, my lady.” The young woman came over and relieved Arhianna of her leather satchel. “Is that all?” the servant asked with wide eyes.

  Arhianna nodded. “Yes.” She had left all of her robes and jewels behind.

  The servant gave a quick curtsey and disappeared into the castle.

  “Now, I’m sure you’ll both be wanting a bath,” Lady Gwen said, steering them into the castle. “Take your time. I believe Rozen has prepared a fish stew for tonight. Come when you’re ready.”

  Arhianna followed Igerna to the bathhouse, eager to wash off the road. The servant who had taken her satchel came in to wash their hair. It was the most luxury she had enjoyed in moons. They did not have a bathhouse in Thanet or in Jutland. There, bathing was something one did quickly in a cold stream or river.

  While soaking, she considered the questions Lady Gwen was sure to have for her. “Igerna, should I tell your mother about Ambrius?”

  “Oh, no.” Igerna jerked out of the water and looked over at her, shaking her head. “Don’t. She’ll only worry. You and I will need to pray for his safety alone. My father is wise. I trust he’ll do what must be done, or die honorably.”

  Arhianna felt surprised by how Igerna spoke of her father’s possible death with such acceptance.

  “You can tell us all how you were seized by the Saxons and how you managed to escape, though—I’m dying to know how you did it.” Her smile suddenly vanished.

  Confused, Arhianna looked behind her at the door, wondering if someone might have come in. “What is it?”

  “I’m so sorry. I just realized they might have…hurt you. I’ve been dreadfully rude.”

  Arhianna’s mind flashed back to the terrible attack at Gwythno and the horrors she had seen that day. “Many of us were killed or injured, but I was fortunate. So fortunate, it makes me feel guilty.”

  Igerna did not pry any further. “Well, I, for one, am most grateful for your fortune—without it, I might never have seen my father again.”

  They finished bathing, and Igerna found several dresses for Arhianna to wear. “With six women in the house, there are plenty of dresses. If you need something else, I’ll see to it.”

  “You’re too kind—these will be perfect.” Arhianna smiled with approval at the fine robes Igerna had laid out for her. “You said some of these belong to your sisters—what are their names, so I may thank them?”

  “Gwyar, Rheinwylydd, Tywarwedd, and Goleudydd1, but my brothers and I call them Gwee, Willeth, Tywa and Gola. My siblings all call me Iggy. You can, too, if you prefer.”

  “Igerna is such a beautiful name. I couldn’t bring myself to shorten it.”

  Igerna’s eyes sparkled at the compliment. “As you wish, then. Come, follow me. I’m starving.”

  Arhianna followed her new friend to the dining hall, where the rest of her family was gathered, waiting for them.

  A young man looked up from the table and rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s about time!”

  Lady Gwen was quick to scold him for his lack of manners.

  Igerna gave him an icy look as well. “That’s my brother, Cynwal.2”

  A little boy came running and threw his arms around Igerna’s legs, squeezing her in a tight embrace. “Oof!” She smiled and glanced over at Arhianna. “This is Llygadrudd3. We call him Llyg.”

  Arhianna smiled down at him. “Hello, Llyg.”

  Llyg looked to be about five years old. He peered up at her boldly with his round brown eyes, safe within the folds of his sister’s robe. “Hello. Are you my sister’s new friend?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Want to sit next to me?”

  “Would you like to sit next to me,” Lady Gwen corrected from across the dining hall.

  “Would you like to sit next to me?” He stared at her expectantly.

  Arhianna leaned down to look him in the eyes. “I’d be honored.”

  Llyg nodded and took her hand. “This way, my lady.” He trotted down the table and pulled out a chair for her.

  Arhianna glanced over at Igerna, making a face to express how sweet she thought he was. In the middle of the meal, he poked her under the table to get her attention. She looked over and he opened a fold of his tunic to reveal a baby rabbit sleeping in his lap. “I saved him today,” he whispered to her, stroking its little head. “My brother killed his mama.”

  “Oh, he’s precious,” she whispered back. “He’s lucky you found him.” She glanced over at Cynwal, who had overheard. He shrugged apologetically.

  From that moment, Llyg held a special place in Arhianna’s heart. He reminded her of a dark-haired version of Taliesin. She was struck with a pang of melancholy. Oh, where have you gone, dear friend? Have you found your lovely Willow? Or are you exploring some other wondrous place, now? It was a mystery she pondered often. After Taliesin bid her farewell, he had simply vanished. Nothing was missing from his grove but him, his harp, and the Brisingamen. Everything else was left just so, as if he might come back at any moment, but he never had. She, Jørren and the clan had left some moons afterwards. Her stomach clenched at the possibility that he might return, looking for her, but not find her there. I might never see him again. Now that the danger of her journey was no longer there to occupy her mind, feelings of loss assailed her. She scolded herself for growing sentimental and refused any more wine that evening. It would be entirely unacceptable to weep in front of her hosts.

  ***

  With the passing of days, Arhianna’s worries hung heavier in her mind, like storm clouds refusing to blow on. Had Amlawth managed to warn the others? Or were they all dead as a result of Hengist’s treacherous plan? And what of Jørren? Where is he? The possibility that he might be dead sickened her—yet one more man she loved that she would likely never see again.

  She spent many hours up on the wall, gazing out at the countryside surrounding the castle. Somehow, up there, she felt as if she were still connected to the life she had left behind. There was a section of the wall that was nearly always private, with a beautiful view of the grounds behind the castle. She began going there to pray to Freya each morning before the castle woke. One morning, she was surprised to find someone there. Cynwal. She turned to go, but he had heard her approach.

  “Lady Arhianna? Wait—“

  She turned around, a bit embarrassed that she had tried to sneak away. “Good morning, Lord Cynwal. I’m sorry for the intrusion—I didn’t wish to disturb you.”

  He smiled. “You’ve done nothing of the sort. I would be glad of some company. Sometimes, I grow melancholy from spending too much time in my own head.”

  Arhianna smiled. She was familiar with the feeling.

  “Look—do you see that pile of rocks up on that hill, over there?”

  Arhianna ventured over and looked in the direction he was pointing. “The one that looks like a fat old lady?”

  Cynwal burst out laughing. “Exactly! When Igerna and I were little, we named it Lady Derwa, after our nursemaid. She was shaped the same way.”

  Arhianna giggled. She could not picture the graceful, ever-polite Igerna doing such a thing. “Well, it must have been your idea.”

  Cynwal tilted his head, pursed his lips and turned his palms up. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t the best influence. Got us both into loads of trouble.” He grinned. “We played up there on that hill often. We pretended Lady Derwa was a troll queen who turned to stone during the day, and came alive at dusk to come and tuck us in our beds.”

  Arhianna realized she had misjudged Cynwal. The night of her arrival at the dinner table, when Llyg revealed him to be the killer of his pet baby rabbit’s mother, she had imagined him to be small-minded and cruel. She could see now he was not. She smiled, picturing tiny versions of him and Igerna running around on the hill, squealing and chasing each other the way she and her brother
used to. “Such games are good for children—they open their eyes to the other realms.”

  Cynwal raised his brows. “You think that’s good, do you?”

  Arhianna could not tell from his face or his tone whether he did or not, but she did not care. “Yes, I do.” She nodded. “I think it’s very good.”

  Cynwal smiled again, his eyes lingering on her a bit longer than was appropriate, and then took a deep breath. “Well, this has been lovely. I must leave you to enjoy the rest of the sunrise in solitude. I’m off to visit some of the local lords today. With Father gone, it seems I’m lucky to have any time to myself at all. I’m happy to have spent a bit of it with you, Lady Arhianna. Until tonight.” He gave her a respectful nod, smiled, and left.

  Arhianna stood at the wall a long while, watching the sunrise. She thought of Jørren and felt a twinge of guilt for having enjoyed Cynwal’s company.

  ***

  A week later, Arhianna, Igerna and Llyg were walking on top of the castle wall, watching Llyg throw leaves off it and observing how different types caught the wind. They were about to go back inside when Llyg pointed to the horizon and cried out, “Look, Iggy! Father’s coming!”

  Igerna rushed back to the wall and looked in the direction Llyg was pointing. “Oh, merciful God—I must tell Mother.”

  The three of them hurried down the tower. Igerna found her mother embroidering in the hall by the fire. “Father’s returned,” she said, breathless.

  “Ah, good.” Lady Gwen set down her fabric and began giving orders to the servants.

  Igerna nodded to Arhianna. “Let’s go and greet him.” They went down to the courtyard. The guards atop the wall had already alerted those below, and the castle gates stood open to receive their lord. Cynwal was already there in the courtyard. He looked intently in Arhianna’s direction and gave her a nod when she arrived.

  Amlawth and his riders arrived within the hour, and the courtyard burst into chaos. Many of his riders were wounded, wearing bloody, torn clothing. Cynwal began shouting orders, and stablehands ran out to attend to horses.

  “Father!” Llyg cried, running to him. Amlawth was quick to dismount and scoop him up in his arms.