by J. M. Hofer
Igerna took a sip of wine and nodded. “In my dreams, he comes into my bed after I’ve fallen asleep. I feel him wrap his arms and legs about me from behind, and then he whispers things into my ear.”
“What does he say?” Arhianna remembered how Jørren had often done the same thing to her, and felt a melancholic pang.
“Sometimes just my name. Sometimes, he says nothing at all and simply strokes my hair. But, last night, I dreamt he asked me to wait for him. I can remember it as clearly as you and I are now speaking—Igerna, wait for me.”
Upon hearing this, Arhianna knew her friend’s destiny lay with Uthyr, whether she wed Gorlois or not, but she kept this to herself and instead spoke words of comfort.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hunted
As soon as winter began to wane and the first tidings of spring came riding upon the winds, Amlawth made preparations to take Arhianna home. He asked Cynwal and twenty of his men to accompany them with wagons of goods to trade. The morning of their long-awaited departure was bittersweet. Though Arhianna had been restless through the winter, she had mixed feelings about returning home.
“I’ll return at Midsummer for your wedding,” she promised Igerna. Uthyr had never proposed, after all, and Arhianna felt a bit relieved. She had observed Gorlois closely during his visits to the castle and thought him a better choice. His eyes nearly danced when he gazed at Igerna. Where Uthyr’s attentions toward Igerna conjured images of a hungry wolf, Gorlois’ reminded Arhianna of a noble, loyal hound. She felt confident he would honor and defend her in all things, even unto death.
Igerna smiled. “You had better come—and promise me you’ll visit me at Din Tagell as well. There, I’ll be mistress of the castle, and we shall do as we please.”
Arhianna laughed. “You’re implying we don’t do so already.”
“Well, then, without hiding it.” Igerna winked.
Llyg came running into the courtyard with a rope and began wrapping it around Arhianna’s thighs and knees. She laughed. “Llyg, what do you think you’re doing?”
“You can’t go!” he cried. “I’m going make you stay.”
Igerna scolded him, but Arhianna picked him up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re very fierce, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. Now, I must take your father to meet mine. Won’t it be nice if our fathers become friends? Then, perhaps, you may come and visit me in the mountains.”
Llyg looked at the rope in his hands, twisting it between his fingers while he considered her offer. After a moment, he let out a little sigh. “Yes, that would be nice.”
Arhianna kissed him again and set him down. “Good. That’s settled, then. Now, kind lord, would you please release me?”
He nodded and marched back around her, unwound the rope and then hoisted it onto his shoulder.
Arhianna embraced Igerna and mounted her horse. Amlawth gave the order to advance, sending a jolt of excitement through her heart. When they reached the bend in the road that would cause the castle to disappear behind them, she turned and waved a final farewell to Igerna and Llyg, who were still standing where she had left them.
They set out under a grey and somber sky. The lack of wind was unnerving, for it seemed there was always at least a breeze in Dumnonia. The roads were thick with mud, and the carts occasionally had to be pulled free. Regardless, they managed to make steady progress.
Arhianna’s mind wandered as the hours passed. Home. In spite of her eagerness to return, she harbored worries about what she might find there. Though the Saxons had not ventured that far west, news had reached Dumnonia that Vortigern had taken refuge in the west, fearful of retribution from Hengist for the trouble his sons had caused. Due to its mountainous terrain and distance from the Jute and Saxon settlements, Vortigern had, unfortunately, chosen Arhianna’s homeland to flee to. She knew the prosperity of her people was no secret to the people who lived in the kingdom of Gwyneth, and she feared Vortigern’s greed would soon sniff out Mynyth Aur and threaten her people.
Amlawth invited Arhianna to ride with him in front of the party. The art of conversation was something she had always been very skilled at, but it took scarcely any effort at all to find rapport with Amlawth; he was an experienced man with extensive knowledge of many things. At first, they spoke of the weather, remarking on the various harbingers of spring all around them on the road. Arhianna then took to extolling the virtues of everyone in Amlawth’s household, save Cynwal, who rode within earshot. Every once in awhile, she glanced back at him, and he smiled at her.
Arhianna expressed her growing concern for her family. “Lord Amlawth, is there any truth to the rumor that Vortigern has fled to Gwyneth?”
Amlawth turned to look at her. “There is. After the treachery committed at Ambrius, I’ve heard from several sources that he was advised to flee. He has settled in the Eryri and is building a fortress. I imagine he will seek to fortify his position there.”
Arhianna grew anxious. Battles with the Saxons had once been far away, on distant shores. Now, thanks to Vortigern, they were moving steadily inland. It was only a matter of time, she supposed, before Vortigern began making demands of the chieftains in the area. If he did, her father would surely be among those solicited.
Cynwal rode up to join the conversation. “You must put your hope in Emrys,” he said, as if he had read her mind. “He’s the key to our salvation. Under his banner, we can defeat Vortigern and the heathens he’s invited here.”
***
They were four days into their journey, just a few hours from Caer Glou, when the sound of arrows came whizzing through the air. Seconds later, four of Amlawth’s men fell from their horses.
“Brigands!” Cynwal cried, jumping from his horse. “To arms!” He grabbed Arhianna off her mount in one swift motion and threw her behind a nearby cart. “Stay down!” he cried, drawing his sword. He ran into the trees where the arrow had come from. All his men took up bows, swords or spears and ran into the trees to engage their attackers.
Arhianna peeked out from her hiding place. She could not see the fight, so she crept out and moved to the edge of the trees where she could get a better look. From there, it was clear their attackers outnumbered them nearly two to one.
She watched helplessly while, one by one, Amlawth’s men were shot down. She resisted the impulse to do anything until Cynwal took an arrow in the shoulder.
“No!” she cried. I can’t let this happen! I can’t! Panicked, she ran into the forest, setting ablaze every tree that held an enemy archer. They fell out of the trees like rotten fruit, screaming in pain. The chaos she created gave Amlawth’s men the opportunity they needed. They made quick work of the attackers who remained.
When the fight was over, she emerged from the burning forest to find every one of Amlawth’s men staring at her. She pulled weakly at her singed robe, now falling from her shoulders. She dared not let go of it, for fear it would reveal her nakedness. Some seemed afraid, and others, suspicious. She grew anxious. To her relief, Cynwal covered her with his cloak and took her hand. “Come, my lady.”
She looked him over. His shirt was bloody, but there was no arrow sticking out of him. “But—you were shot.”
“Just a graze. I’ll be fine.”
Amlawth shouted orders at the men and then joined them, addressing her in a low and urgent tone. “You must tell me how you did that—my men are loyal, but simple, and it is clear they fear you now.”
Arhianna glanced at the faces of Amlawth’s men and indeed saw fear in their eyes—not in all of them, thankfully, but many. “I…I have no explanation for what just happened,” she stammered. Her eyes darted between Amlawth and Cynwal, watching their reactions closely. I must think of something, quickly. “I could see the fight was a helpless one. I prayed for mercy, but I don’t know how I did what I did.” Arhianna’s heart raced and her gut churned from her lies.
Amlawth nodded, accepting her story, but Cynwal did not look convinced. After a moment, Amlawth ra
ised his hands for silence and turned to address his men. “We have witnessed a miracle!” he cried exuberantly.
The men began whispering to one another, eyeing Arhianna more intensely.
“Give thanks that Lady Arhianna was blessed with the power to help defeat our attackers.”
There was a long silence as the men looked at one another, considering Amlawth’s words. At last, one of the men cried, “T’was Brigid what blessed ‘er! Blessed ‘er with fire, to save us!”
That, apparently, was what many of the men were thinking, because several raised their voices in accord. Others disagreed, insisting it was Christ Jesus who had blessed her, accusing the first group of heresy. The argument heated up, until one of the men stepped forward and demanded, “Who did you pray to, Lady Arhianna?”
Though Amlawth’s household was Christian, the worship of the Old Gods was not forbidden. Yet, after witnessing the vehemence of the argument that had just occurred, Arhianna opted for a cautious answer. She regarded the men with a calm and steady gaze. “All of them.”
“All of them, my lady?”
“Yes, all of them—the Old Gods, Christ Jesus, the Lady Mary, and the Great Mother—I prayed to them all, hoping one would hear me and take mercy upon us. So, you see, we cannot know for certain who has helped us.”
This simply started the arguments all over again, but at least Arhianna was no longer the subject of their critical and possibly dangerous persecution. They argued until Amlawth bellowed, “Silence! Is it not enough that your lives have been spared today?” His face was stern, causing many to look down at their feet. “Whatever powers are responsible for our salvation, let us not be foolish enough to insult them by arguing. Mount your horses.”
Arhianna watched as the men did as Amlawth commanded, putting their efforts into making the wounded comfortable and readying the horses and wagons to move on.
It was then that Arhianna first noticed an old woman in their party. She felt surprised she had not seen her before. She nodded in Arhianna’s direction, smiled, and then climbed into a cart near the back of the procession and disappeared.
“Who was that?” Arhianna asked Amlawth.
“Who?”
“That old woman in the back.”
“Old woman?” Amlawth knit his brows. “I’m afraid you must be mistaken—we have no women with us except you, my lady.”
Arhianna shook her head. She was certain she had seen an old woman. “I just saw her—she climbed into that cart in the back.” Arhianna began walking to the end of the procession. Amlawth followed her, curious.
She reached the cart and pointed. “This one.”
Amlawth flipped back the cover of the cart. “There, you see? Nothing but goods.”
Arhianna was dumbfounded. Apples, barrels of ale, sacks of grain—nothing more. She felt her cheeks grow hot. “I’m sorry. I must have imagined her. I’m not myself right now.”
Amlawth gave her a kind look. “Of course you’re not. I daresay none of us are. Let’s move on. I want to be within the walls of Caer Glou before dark.”
He strode forward to his place at the head of the party. Arhianna hurried behind him. He held her horse steady as she mounted, got astride his own, and yelled, “Forward!” The wagons lurched as men cracked their whips. All kept their weapons close at hand, throwing constant glances toward the trees and surrounding countryside.
Amlawth turned to Arhianna. “Tonight, some of the men may approach you about what happened. Do not speak to any of them about it. If they insist, refuse politely, and say it is at my command that you refrain.”
Arhianna nodded. “As you wish, my lord.”
The journey north continued without incident, but the mood changed considerably. There was no one among them who did not look upon her differently. Most avoided her, which was painful. Even Amlawth seemed to have a different manner around her, which hurt her most of all. Only Cynwal looked at her the same way.
She felt relieved when they at last reached the outskirts of Caer Glou. There, they passed the night as guests of Eldol. Arhianna spoke with no one but Cynwal, who insisted on joining her for supper in the hall that night. She ate quickly and retired.
She went to her chamber feeling resentful. Great Mother! I just saved their lives. She sighed, longing for the clan she had left behind. They had accepted her and all her power with reverence and love, not disgust and fear. That night, when she knew it was safe to do so, she wept. She missed the brook where she had walked every morning to worship Freya, and Ragna’s earthy smile and raspy laugh. Most of all, she missed Jørren’s arms around her. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? she wondered. He knew she would return to her father’s village, that was no secret, but, would he come for her? The possibility that he might not made her stomach sour with regret. I should have stood by him. He’s my husband. She felt overcome with hatred for Hengist, whom she blamed for the undoing of her husband and the desecration of his honor. “Damn you, Hengist, and damn you, Vortigern. Damn you and all men who stand for nothing but themselves!”
“True words, those,” a weathered voice spoke from out of the darkness.
Arhianna’s heart leapt into her throat, preventing her from crying out or speaking.
“This land is full of disease and rot, watered with the poison of greed,” the old voice added.
Arhianna sat up. Her fingers trembled so much she could scarcely light her candle but managed in the end. She rubbed her eyes, squinting in the light. There, upon the single chair in her room, sat the old woman she had seen earlier. “Who are you?”
“Just an old hag who speaks to those who see her.” Her face looked like a wrinkled apple, long since fallen from the tree, yet her eyes seemed young and clear. Her dress was a patchwork of many different plaids. Over her shoulders hung a shawl with all manner of objects sewn onto it—beads, bones, raven feathers, shells, and a few things Arhianna dared not guess at.
“You must be careful, child.”
“Why?”
“You have been blessed with power beyond those who surround you, and now, you have revealed yourself. You swim in dangerous waters. You must be vigilant. You are being hunted.”
Arhianna’s heart jumped. “Hunted? By what?”
“Not what. Whom. A snake slithers among your escort’s men. He will soon betray you to those who have been seeking you. Now that you have revealed your power, it will not be long before they come for you.”
Arhianna realized her presence put Amlawth and Cynwal in danger. The thought of anything happening to them was impossible for her to bear. “Then I must leave at once.”
“That would be wise.”
Arhianna jumped from the bed and looked out the window. She needed to hurry, for soon it would soon be dawn, and the others would be waking. When she turned around, she saw nothing but an empty chair.
***
Arhianna dressed, crept out of the fortress and found the stable. She would ride west, to Maes Gwythno. There, Elffin would welcome her without question, and she had never mentioned Gwythno to anyone. No one will think to look for me there. She could only hope that Amlawth would assume she had ridden ahead, eager to get home. By the time he reached Mynyth Aur and learned the truth of it, she would be safe. She quietly saddled her horse and led him out of the stable.
“Where are you going?” a man’s voice demanded.
She gasped and wheeled around to see Cynwal’s silhouette in the moonlight. Her mind reeled, throwing out all sorts of lies she might tell, but she found she could not give voice to any of them.
“You’re leaving because of what happened, aren’t you?”
She said nothing. He moved into the stable and took her hands. “You’ve been hiding something.”
A wave of nausea came over her.
“You knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you? I watched you in the forest. You moved with purpose, attacking those men. There was no surprise on your face—no shock about what was happening.”
Arhian
na recalled the old hag’s words. ‘A snake slithers among your escort’s men. He will soon betray you to those who have been seeking you.’ Could it be Cynwal? Gods, no. No. Not Cynwal.
“You serve the Old Gods, and they’ve empowered you…”
Arhianna could not bear to hear Cynwal accuse her of witchcraft or reveal himself to be her betrayer. It would break her heart. “Please…stop! I must go. I can say no more than that. Tell your father whatever you must. Do this, if you care for me at all.”
She tried mounting her horse, but he grabbed her around the waist. Terrified, like a rabbit caught in the jaws of a wolf, she kicked her feet, knocking Cynwal backward. Before he could get up, she took off.
“Arhianna! Wait!”
But she did not wait. She rode her horse hard through the morning, intent on putting a good distance between her and Amlawth’s men in case they tried to pursue her.
She assumed it would take her at least three days to reach her destination. At each inn she stayed at, she always paid in advance and gave a different name. She never revealed she was traveling alone, always saying her husband was seeing to the horses. If she were later asked why he did not show up, she said he was a terrible philanderer and drinker. She then feigned a good cry, and, invariably, would be asked no more questions.
It took her four days to reach the shores of Maes Gwythno. The smell of the sea welcomed her, calling out salty tears upon her face as if they longed to rejoin it.
The last time she had seen those shores, they had been bathed in the blood of her people, but there was no evidence of that now. Spring had breathed her first whispers upon the land, and green shoots had begun to thicken. Gwythno stood rebuilt, looking stronger than before, with a busy harbor and shipyard she could hear from a far distance. She kept her face hidden beneath the cowl of her hood as the road wound around the outskirts of the shipyards toward the castle.
Fate had chosen to be kind to her this day, for, just as she was contemplating how best to enter the castle and ask for Elffin without calling attention to herself, she spied Irwyn barking orders in the shipyard.