But instead of acquiescing, the man tried to throw himself off the stretcher. “Stay away from me, demon!” His motion only succeeded in opening wider the wound that gaped in his belly. “I’ve been watching! I know what you are!”
Cade brought back his hand. “I’ve made no secret of it from the start. If you don’t want to live—”
“I’m sorry, my lord.” Tudur had his hands on the man’s shoulders, holding him down. “We thought he’d changed his mind.”
Cade sat back on his heels. This man should have been one of the first to come to him. As it was, Cade was glad he was the last. This was the response he’d expected from Llelo, but as each of the wounded had come to him and left healed and grateful, he’d put his trepidation from his mind. The man was correct that no gift from the world of the sidhe came without a price. But in this matter, it was Cade who paid it, not those he helped.
Rhiann stepped in and leaned over the wounded man. She put her hand to his forehead. “King Cadwaladr can help you.”
“Jesus save me!”
Cade got to his feet. “I’m not Jesus. I have no jurisdiction over your soul, but I could save your life if you’d let me.” The words came out more dry and emotionless than he expected. After a canter around his heart, Cade realized that detached was how he really felt. He could let this man die if that was what he wanted. He’d saved too many today to allow one man’s opinions to bring him low.
“No!” The man grew more agitated.
Rhiann tried again. “We know that death is not evil. But those demons weren’t of this world. You don’t need to die because of them.”
The man gargled at her, still protesting despite the blood filling his mouth, and fell back.
“Let him go.” Rhun stepped in to block the man from Cade’s view.
Cade tugged on the edge of Rhiann’s cloak to get her to look at him. “It’s all right.”
“No it isn’t!” Rhiann’s voice was full of anguish.
“If this is what he wants, I can’t argue with him,” Cade said. “I’m exactly what he thinks I am.”
“He has a wife and three children who might wish he’d made a different choice,” Rhun said.
“He’s so wrong about you.” Rhiann reached up and brushed back a strand of hair that had come lose from the tie at the base of Cade’s neck.
Cade clasped her hand. “Thank you. Until I met you, I feared that I was like those demons. You’ve helped me understand that I am not.”
“If he would just open his eyes, he would know it too.” Rhiann craned her neck to look around Rhun at the man, tears in her eyes at his pain and their impotence.
Her profession of staunch support reminded Cade of something he’d forgotten to set right. He pulled her to him. “Taliesin spoke of a wedding.”
“He did.” Rhiann’s bright eyes flashed at him.
“Out in the field I didn’t do the comment justice,” Cade said. “I haven’t asked you to marry me yet. We’ve never actually spoken of it.”
Rhiann waited, not giving him any help at all, just gazing at him with those bottomless brown eyes.
He brought his forehead down to hers. “Rhiannon ferch Cadfael, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
“Trust you to ask me on the edge of a battlefield. But at least it was a battle we won.”
“I can’t promise you anything but my love,” he said. “We might not have a roof over our heads tomorrow; we might not survive the war against the Saxons we know is coming. And then we might. You might even become Queen of Wales.”
Rhiann laughed at that. “Are you trying to get me to say no?”
“I’m giving you the truth.” He lowered his voice further. “I can’t even promise you children.” Those last words caught in his throat. He’d overheard Rhiann talking to Bronwen about how much she wanted children and what it might mean to her never to have them.
“I know.” Rhiann tightened her arms around his neck. “But I’ll marry you despite, and because of all that.”
Cade wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her until she ran out of breath.
Rhun spoke from behind Rhiann. “Doesn’t anyone do any work around here besides me?”
Cade reluctantly released Rhiann and smiled at his friend. “Rhiann has consented to become my wife.”
“That, alone, is an excellent outcome for the day.” Rhun rubbed his hands together. “She’s a much better choice than that last girl. Far more reliable.”
“What—?” Cade said.
Rhun laughed. “Arianrhod. Isn’t she the only other woman you’ve ever kissed? I just meant her.”
Cade smiled at his friend. That wasn’t quite the truth, as Rhun well knew, but Cade didn’t even remember that boy he’d been, who’d sought attention from maids and other lord’s daughters.
Rhiann threw up her hands. “I don’t even want to know.”
Cade tucked her arms back around his neck. “There will never be another woman for me but you.” He kissed her again.
* * * * *
With no wounded to carry or care for and the dead buried, within the hour the army was ready to march again. But they would not travel all together this time either.
“I will head east,” Tudur said.
“To Porthmadog?” Cade said. It was the seat of Pod, king of Dunoding, who’d married Tudur’s sister. He’d been an ally of Cadfael, albeit not a very enthusiastic one.
“I will speak to him of the error of his ways,” Tudur said. “That he did not come to Aberffraw is permissible, in that he is not as young as he once was. But that he didn’t send any of his sons, and was thus unable to give you support when you needed it, is unacceptable. If I have any say in the matter, his men will be with you against the Saxons when the time comes.”
“Thank you.” Cade held out his hand to Tudur, who clasped it firmly. “Until then.”
“Send me word,” Tudur said. “I don’t relish battle any more than the next man, but to return home with only thirty dead and no wounded after facing an army twice our size is unprecedented. We will sing of this for generations.”
Geraint too declined the opportunity to see Caer Dathyl. “From what you’ve told me, I don’t relish a visit. Dafydd, here—” he clapped the young knight on the shoulder, “—can tell me all about it later. Our men will be wanting to see their families anyway. The sooner we start back north, the sooner we’ll be home.”
Cade allowed it, thinking that this was perhaps for the best, as it saved unnecessary explanations of what had gone on at the fort the night before. The men of Gwynedd who’d fought the demons would have enough far-fetched tales to tell that wouldn’t be believed, without the additional stories from Caer Dathyl.
“I, however, will come,” Bedwyr said. “I refuse to let you out of my sight again. The most strange and unprecedented things happen when I’m not among those who protect you.”
So it was a much reduced company that remained behind, waiting for the sun to set so Cade could travel south to Caer Dathyl. Cade sat on a log with his arm around Rhiann, who closed her eyes and leaned into him. He studied his friends one by one, their faces illumined by the light of the fire as the sun faded from the sky. The atmosphere was subdued, as was Cade himself, thinking what they’d each gone through with him and for him.
How could so much have happened in one night? What with the shipwreck, the events in Caer Dathyl, and the defeat of the demons, how are any of them still upright?
The thought brought Cade up short. And how is it that I feel as strong as ever, when I haven’t—he stopped, feeling a hollowness inside himself that he hadn’t known in over two years.
“Does anyone have anything to eat?” he said.
Hywel had been worrying at a hole in the dirt with a stick and now tossed it into the fire. Flames shot up, crackling anew. “I’ve some bread that isn’t too dry and an apple in my bag. Why?”
“I’m hungry,” Cade said.
“You’re what?” Rhun turned to Rhi
ann. “Did he say he was hungry? He doesn’t have a heartbeat, does he?”
Rhiann looked into Cade’s face, reached out a hand to put a palm to his cheek and then her head to his chest. “No. Are you feeling all right, Cade?”
Laughter tickled his throat, and he couldn’t contain it. The sheer joy of being hungry had his spirits soaring. “Can’t a man want a good meal every now and then?” Cade’s stomach growled loud enough for everyone to hear, punctuating his request.
Hywel got to his feet. “I’ll get what I have, my lord.” He walked to his horse, a grin a mile wide on his face.
“Every man but you!” Rhun said. “You ate more than any of us as a youth, when you used to eat.”
“I recollect your mother making a similar comment once, but she was speaking of you at the time, not me,” Cade said. “She said she had to feed you every two hours, just like an infant, or you’d get grumpy.”
Rhun laughed. “You can tell yourself that all you like, but it isn’t true.” He rummaged in his own pack and tossed an apple to Cade who caught it, rubbed it on his shirt, and took a bite. He closed his eyes as the tang of it hit him. Juice ran down his chin.
Rhiann was staring at him, wide-eyed. “You can taste it too, can’t you?”
Another wave of laughter bubbled up within Cade, filling him so that he almost choked on a piece of the apple. “I can. Is there more?”
“Here’s my contribution.” Hywel dropped an apple and a small loaf of bread into Cade’s lap.
“Why didn’t you eat when we did an hour ago?” Goronwy said.
“I wasn’t hungry then,” Cade said.
Soon, Cade had a small pile of food in front of him: dried meat, a bit of bread, a carrot Dafydd had been saving for his horse. Then it was gone and nobody had any more to offer him. Cade licked his fingers and wiped them on his breeches.
“I can’t believe I’ve agreed to marry such a barbarian,” Rhiann said.
“I can’t seem to help it.” Cade glanced up at his friends, each of whom gazed at him with expressions ranging from amusement to concern. “What has Arianrhod done to me?”
“Surely enough by now?” Rhiann said.
“We’d better get him to Caer Dathyl,” Rhun said, still enjoying the knowledge that Cade wanted to eat. “They’ll have more food for him. You’ll see that what I say is true.”
And so they did. Two hours later, with full dark cloaking their movements, they approached the fort. It appeared exactly as Cade thought it should—that is to say, small, plain, and with a wooden palisade rather than walls of black stone. Bedwyr and Rhun lit torches once they reached the pathway leading to the fort, so watchers on the ramparts spotted them—and Cade’s banner—from some distance away. Siawn himself came out to meet them, his horse flying down the pathway. A dozen retainers followed.
Siawn pulled up in front of Cade, dismounted, and bowed. “Sire. It is my honor to welcome you to Caer Dathyl.”
“Thank you, Siawn,” Cade said. “What a difference a day makes.”
“Is—are—” Siawn looked past Cade to the others clustered behind him. He swallowed whatever first question he’d thought to ask. “All is well?”
“The demons are destroyed,” Cade said.
Siawn’s expression cleared. “I am very pleased to hear it. I apologize for not being with you at the end.” Siawn’s face indicated he wanted to say something else—to ask more questions but thought better of it with so many witnesses.
“We missed you,” Cade said, “but understand that you had business to attend to at home.”
“Teregad has fled,” Siawn said. “He will never trouble us again.”
Cade nodded his acceptance while at the same time studying Siawn’s face. Siawn met Cade’s eyes, but still, Cade wasn’t sure if that was the whole truth, or if Siawn’s interpretation of fled meant that Teregad’s body had ended up in the Irish Sea. “You, then, are King of Caer Dathyl—if you will accept the challenge.”
“If it means that I still serve you,” Siawn said, “then yes.”
“With you on the throne here, I don’t have to worry about this region of Gwynedd and am content,” Cade said. “I will not pretend, however, that I won’t be calling upon you and your men in the near future.”
Siawn took a moment to reflect on that. “More demons?”
“Perhaps,” Cade said. “I wouldn’t bet against it, even with the black cauldron closed. I’m referring, however, to the Saxons. It isn’t as if we’ve yet dealt with the aftermath of Cadfael’s death. Cadfael had many Saxon allies, including Penda—my mother’s brother—and Peada, Penda’s son and my cousin, who not long ago planned to seal his alliance to Gwynedd by marrying Rhiann. They will find that I’m not quite as willing a pawn as Cadfael, for all that I can call Penda uncle.”
“We will be ready, my lord,” Siawn said. “For now, please accept the hospitality of Caer Dathyl.”
“Thank you,” Cade said, and then added, unable to contain his news. “Penda might also object to the fact that Rhiann has consented to become my wife.”
Siawn gave Cade his first genuine smile. “Congratulations, my lord.” He fell in beside Rhiann, a pace behind Cade as they finished their journey to Caer Dathyl.
“It looks so different,” Rhiann said. “I can hardly credit that so much could have changed in less than a day.”
“Remember that Mabon’s greatest power is that of illusion,” Cade said. “He turned Caer Dathyl’s wooden walls into black stone overnight and convinced everyone here that all was as it should be. That does not mean, however, that the walls were ever stone—only that we perceived them thus.”
“Taliesin said as much when he led us into Caer Ddu, though I didn’t understand what his words meant at the time,” Rhiann said.
“The gods belong to a different realm,” Cade said. “Even I don’t understand them, not even a little, for all that I carry a small part of the sidhe inside me.”
Dafydd spoke from behind them. “You mean—” He gestured broadly, which Cade interpreted as referring to Caer Dathyl, his companions, and the world in general, “—we can’t trust our senses at all anymore?”
Cade glanced back at him. “The gods put on a glamour that is impossible for humans to penetrate, myself and Taliesin included, though he might see more than he lets on.”
“Or did.” Rhun muttered the words under his breath.
“Camulos could have thrown a snowball at me, were it snowing, made the ball appear as a boar, and I would still have felt it hit my chest. I would have fallen over just as easily.”
“That would have been just like Mabon to trick you that way and amuse himself with the memory of it afterwards,” Rhiann said.
Similarly, back in Arawn’s cavern, Cade’s companions had seen doors that weren’t there, until demons came through them. Only Cade hadn’t been fooled. He had prided himself on his ability to stand as one of the sidhe when he needed to and see through their deceptions. The notion that in this case he hadn’t, or that Mabon had some new power over him, was disconcerting to say the least.
“What else have we witnessed that wasn’t real?” Dafydd said.
“The golden throne in Arawn’s cavern could have been a rickety wooden chair,” Goronwy said, “or the golden ship at Caer Ddu could have been a rowboat.”
“Do you think—” Now it was Rhiann’s turn to swallow her words. Cade looked at her, concerned, because her face had paled. “What about my father? Is he really dead?”
Cade swallowed hard himself at that thought. The body of Cadfael, which they’d been unable to remove from the wall at Caer Ddu, could have been nothing more than a rat, put there in Cadfael’s form for Mabon’s amusement. Admittedly, Teregad had been certain that Cadfael was dead and claimed to have had something to do with it. Cade decided to take that, of all the strange incidents leading up to this point, at face value.
“He’s dead, Rhiann,” Cade said. “It doesn’t pay to second guess ourselves too much. For all that Camulos
was on that battlefield, or Arawn in his cavern—”
“—Or Arianrhod in the clearing,” Rhun said.
“They don’t bother with us most of the time,” Cade said.
He didn’t mention that were Taliesin with them, he might have said something to the effect that humans couldn’t be sure anything was real—whether or not a god bothered to play games with a man’s mind. How often did a man’s senses lie to him?
At night, he could turn a cloak on a hook into an intruder, a whisper through the shutters into a ghost, and a windstorm into an angry god. Cade pressed his hand to Caer Dathyl’s wooden gate as he passed through it, feeling the grains in the wood. If only he could ensure that he always saw so clearly.
Chapter Six
Rhiann
Just as when she’d arrived at Aberffraw as a king’s friend, Rhiann was somewhat discomfited by her reception at Caer Dathyl. True, she was the only woman among the companions and was dressed in boys’ clothes, but the subservience of the occupants of the fort set her teeth on edge.
“It wasn’t very long ago that I was one of them,” she said to Cade that evening at dinner after yet another servant had bowed deeply as he poured her mead. And then some for Cade, who so far had consumed four entire trenchers of food and a gallon of drink. Rhiann had looked closely in his eyes several times. He was neither sated nor—more importantly—drunk.
“It isn’t just that you are my betrothed, cariad,” Cade said, taking another sip from his cup. “I believe Siawn has been talking.”
“About me?” Rhiann said. “What could he have said about me?”
“That you are a true heroine,” Cade said.
“Cade—”
“Eighteen hours ago, this hall was full of men who’d drunk from Mabon’s barrels and slept the night away. They’d lived among demons for heaven knows how long. This morning, they awoke to find Mabon gone and their fort back to the way it was a month ago. It was as if they’d gone on a drunken binge with only vague memories of their lives, even if the men we spoke to were coherent at the time.”
The Pendragon's Quest (The Last Pendragon Saga Book 4) Page 5